


Fighting For Her

by Hypnobyl



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: AU, F/F, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, trans!alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 62,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypnobyl/pseuds/Hypnobyl
Summary: Kara has spent ten years fighting for the Intergalactic Fighting League after they intercepted her ship on its course to Earth. She's dealt with physical strain, constant fear of loss, and near total isolation. Her only salvation is the companion assigned to her by the IFL and consequently removed when she loses. All it takes is one rigged fight to change the course of her life--one rigged fight, and one new companion.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to tag this as slavery, given cultural connotations, but there is some forced servitude in this. Kara is basically enslaved as a fighter, although she did 'consent' to her position, while Cat has never agreed--would never have agreed--to being stolen away from Earth.
> 
> If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear feedback in the comments.

A fist swings directly at her face.

Kara bounces quickly out of the way--but not quickly enough, as the fist clips her cheek. She settles back on her right foot to regain her balance and brings her arms up to guard her face. Her opponent is a large creature, with an angular skull and long, gangling arms. He looks insect-like and has a hardened exoskeleton that deflects most of her attacks. Still, she’s gone a good three years without a loss, and she’s not going to ruin her record now.

No. She thinks about the timid Green Martian waiting in her quarters, young and sweet and so very fragile. That girl counts on her to fight and win, which she will. She surges forward and launches a quick assault, landing blow after blow. The insectoid stumbles aside, crawing shrill tones that could have either been screams of pain or rage--Kara can’t be sure. In any event, she can’t afford to care.

She sweeps her leg around and crashes her foot into his side. There’s a brittle cracking sound, terrible and loud, and she knows she’s finally gotten an advantage. She aims all her attacks at the thin lines threading out from the initial point of impact, over and over and over again, determined to beat her way through the exoskeleton. One more hit ought to do it. She cocks her arm back, readies her punch, and then flinches.

Her eyes dart to the green glowing bangles around her wrists. They were somehow stronger than a moment before, the strange power of the mysterious element dampening her abilities. In this particular solar system, with its yellow sun, she would have been impervious to most everything, as well as incredibly strong and fast. She knows the lore about her people, the stories handed down to her by her parents as they placed her in a pod and launched her away from their exploding planet. Those powers were supposed to be immutable. Yet, these bangles interfere--make her weak.

The insectoid squalls again, but she’s took weak now to block his attack. His fist connects squarely with her nose. She hears the bones crunch, feels the burst of blood, and sees nothing but darkness.

She wakes later in her quarters. Her head throbs, and opening her eyes is almost too much to manage. Sitting up is also difficult, and she presses fingertips to her temples to cut the pain. Blood is crusted on her upper lip, and her body feels beaten and battered. She bets the insectoid continued his assault, even after she passed out. The organizers encourage that sort of behavior, and she’s done it herself on multiple occasions in order to earn extra privileges.

“K’hym?”

Her voice croaks and receives no answer. Heart tight, she staggers to her feet and checks the main room and the bathroom. She’s alone. She’s failed. Returning to her bedroom, she scratches the name into the wall behind where her pillow rests. Ten names. Ten failures. Ten weights on her conscience. She sits in silence for a time, trying to remember everything she could about her companion--to honor K’hym’s memory even in the shame of defeat. She gingerly wipes her tears from beneath her blackened eyes and tries not to give up hope.

She chose this life, so he could live his. After ten years of this, her resilience is wavering, and she wonders why she made that decision. She could have escaped and had a normal life somewhere else. She wouldn’t have blood on her hands.

At the sound of struggle in the hallway beyond her quarters, Kara snaps from her thoughts. Her new companion is coming, and by the sounds of it, this one’s a fresh catch. Companions who have been in the system are quiet, having already had the resistance beaten out of them. This one shouts and clamors, and Kara hears what sounds like fingernails on metal, scratching along frantically but finding no purchase.

She stands alert as her door slides open. A moment later, a body is flung inside, and the door closes with a whoosh. Kara steps closer and kneels. She places her hand on the person’s back but retracts her hand as the person flinches away and scrambles toward the wall. Kara examines her companion closely. Bipedal, with long, shapely legs. Soft torso and two arms. A thin, delicate neck, topped by a rounded head and curling blonde hair. Green eyes. Thin lips. They stand several feet apart, both waiting for the other to move first.

When she can stand the silence no more, Kara offers a tentative smile; she knows she probably looks like a monster after her fight. The woman doesn’t visibly react, so Kara tries again. “Hello?”

The woman keeps her distance, stepping away as Kara steps closer. She says something unintelligible, but Kara understands the demanding tone. Lifting her hands, she shakes her head.

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

More sounds that must be a language but not one that Kara knows. That’s part of this life that she hates. The IFL doesn’t want anyone conspiring or getting comfortable with one another. They don’t provide translation services, and they don’t bother pairing fighters with companions who can easily communicate with them.

“I’m sorry,” Kara says, knowing that she sounds nonsensical to the woman as well. She holds her hand to her chest. “Kara.”

The woman speaks some more, and Kara shakes her head. Finally, the woman places a hand on her own chest. “Cat.”


	2. Chahv

Kara sits on the ground, legs folded neatly beneath her, and practices her breathing. The key to winning fights is not necessarily technical skill or even brute strength. There’s great power in self control, and she meditates twice daily to reaffirm her ability to maintain it. The quiet time also gives her a chance to reflect on her life: her losses take precedent, the most recent still puncturing a tattoo into her heart.

“Kara.”

She ignores the call at first, but when Cat repeats her name, she stands slowly. She stretches, pulling her arms over her head to straighten her spine. Cat watches this coolly without much of a response, although Kara can sense a small uptick in heart rate. This is fascinating to her, and she isn’t sure what would provoke such a hidden reaction. Certainly, none of her other companions ever responded this way, except for the brief moment of fear when they entered her quarters.

Is Cat afraid? She ponders this a moment while Cat says something in that strange language. There are hand gestures to accompany the short speech; Cat touches her lips and then her stomach, and Kara gleans that this message is something about food. She pantomimes putting something in her mouth, and Cat nods.

“Eat.” Kara mimes again. “Eat.”

When Cat repeats the Kryptonian, the word is a bit stilted, but Kara appreciates the effort. She gestures toward Cat and tilts her head. Cat says a word, which Kara tries to pronounce. The word feels like gravel on her tongue, and she’s not used to flat noise required. Her effort is well worth while, as Cat’s lips ease up into a smile. That gesture seems universal, and Kara grins back.

“Eat,” Cat says.

Kara realizes her companion is hungry. She guides Cat into the bedroom and points to a small crate at the foot of her bed. Kneeling, she pulls the crate open and takes out a stiff bar of dense matter, which she’s been told contains all the nutrients she needs to stay in top physical condition. She’s heard about scrawny companions, whose fighters keep the food and water for themselves in the hopes of earning more victories. If their companion dies, they don’t get another until they lose--but that doesn’t seem to bother others.

Companions are intended to be healers, but Kara likes to think of hers more as friends. Isolation can be devastating; she does her best not to think of Krypton but often fails. Her parents are gone, as are her friends. Rao, even Mel-Or--the bully that made her early years agony--is gone, and she feels his loss.

There is no social interaction with the guards, who coldly walk her to the arena and then back to her quarters. She hears them talking to each other sometimes, which is how she picks up her gossip. She doesn’t fully understand everything they say, but she’s been listening to them for a decade and has put together what a few words here and there mean.

To have someone waiting in her rooms is worth more than having a fully belly and sated thirst. She watches with a small bit of mirth as Cat examines the bar with a cocked eyebrow and downturned mouth. Finally, the petite woman deigns to take a nibble. Kara knows from experience that there is little flavor to help the stiff texture; however, Cat seems quite hungry and takes bite after bite until there’s nothing left but a wrapper. Kara offers her another, but Cat shakes her head.

Kara selects a dripper, which she hands over. When Cat stares at the device, Kara shows her how to pop the top and suckle the moisture from within. It only seems like a few drops, but once each drop touches oxygenated air, it expands. The sensation of drinking one can be startling, and Kara hides a smile when Cat’s eyes widen. Now that she’s fed and watered, Cat’s attention inevitably turns to their surroundings.

While her quarters are definitely a step up from those of beginning fighters, Kara knows they are hardly the luxurious rooms of her childhood. The bedroom contains a single bed, with a mattress designed to accommodate one person--Kara used to let K’hym sleep with her, as the companion was young and scared, but she’s uncertain as to what she’ll do with Cat. Likely, Cat will sleep on the bed and she on the floor, which is her usual tactic with new companions. Although the walls emanate the same power as her bangles, the pressure is usually light enough that her body can handle the hard floor and recover by morning.

The rest of the room is barren, except a screen on the far wall that flickers with information. Kara has learned to interpret what she sees, but it must mean nothing to Cat. She has no upcoming fights for the next two weeks, which is a relief. Then again, she only gets these long periods of rest when something large is on the horizon.

She follows Cat into the main room--home to just a few cushions for comfort and a picture of Krypton held magnetically to the wall. She used to have a picture of him, but they took that away early on. The bathroom holds but the bodily waste disposal unit and a steamer. Kara misses the elegant baths of Krypton, but she has grown used to standing with her arms spread as hot, antibacterial mist covers her body. A hatch in the wall allows her to throw out her combat uniform and select a new garment, but they’ve gotten more stringent later on how often she is allowed to change her resting clothing.

Cat speaks some more, her hands gesticulating fervently. Kara stands patiently. She hears the word Earth, which sounds achingly familiar. She can’t remember why, however, or what an Earth even is. When Cat glances at her and stops talking abruptly, Kara fidgets under the suddenly intense gaze. Cat’s green eyes pierce straight through her, and Kara feels dissected and exposed. Then, seemingly without reason, Cat moves toward her.

“Kara,” she says. She tilts her head to indicate a question, points at Kara’s chest, places her hands together in front of her chest, and separates them slowly. Then, she lays her hands flat and drags them out.

How big is the room? Kara frowns. “I don’t know.”

Cat repeats the gestures, more quickly now, and Kara senses urgency in the frenetic movement. When Kara has no answer yet again, Cat flicks fingers up one by one, until all ten are raised. She points at Kara then and raises her brow. The question has something to do with numbers, Kara deduces. Not the size of the room. Maybe Cat wants to know how old she is. She approaches Cat and touches her dainty fingertips twenty-four times. Cat’s expression freezes.

Kara gestures to Cat and holds up her fingers. Cat scowls at her, and Kara wonders if she’s done something offensive. Age on Krypton was not something to be kept secret, but perhaps Cat comes from a more private sort of people. She ducks her head, apologetic. Cat grabs her wrist to gain her attention once more. This time, Cat touches her chest and waits. Kara touches her chest, too.

Cat draws a box and gestures to the room. She waits. Kara mirrors again, and she nods. She lifts her fingers one by one once again. An epiphany strikes Kara, and she beams. This time, she taps Cat’s fingers ten times, to signal that she’s been here, on the satellite, for ten years.

“Ten years,” she says quietly and wonders if she’ll make it another four, to make it an even half of her life spent fighting to stay alive. Deaths do happen on the satellite--specialty death matches where bets are higher and tickets must cost a fortune. She’d only fought in one once, and she nearly died herself rather than kill another being. However, something deep inside refused to let her lay down and be beaten to death.

Something else deep inside disappeared that night, some tiny form of kindness that she doubts she’ll ever regain. While she’s still compassionate and caring, especially to her companion, she knows that she can and will kill--which is not something she ought to be comfortable with. She wonders if Cat would be so comfortable in her presence if her fighting history were known.

The evening hours strike, and the lights in her quarters automatically dim. She moves to the bathroom to have the steamer cleanse her wounds, which requires her to disrobe. Pulling the skin-tight garment from her chest and the leggings from her lower body, she steps nude into the bay and lifts her arms. The computer recognizes her position, beeps, and sprays. The antibacterial mist stings in her wounds, but she’d rather a bit of pain now than an infection later. When she’s done, she steps into the bathroom and pulls fresh clothing from the hatch.

She doesn’t put these on right away. She prefers to keep them clean for the morning, rather than sleeping and rumpling them over night. Walking past Cat to the bedroom, she almost misses the bright red flush on Cat’s cheeks. Her people must indeed be private, Kara decides, although that will hardly change how she lives. Cat will get used to the way things are. She has to.


	3. Tav

Kara arranges one of her blankets on the floor, leaving the sheet and pillow on the bed. She peers back into the main room, seeking Cat’s huddled form in the darkness. The woman leans against the wall with her head trapped between her hands. Kara sighs and comes to her side. When Cat resists attempts to get her to stand, Kara scoops the slighter woman into her arms and carries her to the bed.

Cat shouts at her, beating futile fists against her solid form. She doesn’t want to scare her companion, but she also wants Cat to be comfortable in their shared environment. She places Cat on the mattress, lifts her hands, and backs away.

“I won’t hurt you.”

Bright red and still chattering, Cat gathers the sheet to her chest and presses her back to the wall. Kara can’t find fault with this, as long as Cat eventually relaxes, so she curls up atop her blanket and flops about to get comfortable. Glancing up at Cat once more, Kara yawns and closes her eyes. She falls asleep but doesn’t dream, and when the lights brighten to signal morning, she wakes readily. Stretching, she turns her head to work out a kink--and notices that the bed is empty.

As Cat can’t have gone far, she takes her time standing up, massaging her sore muscles, and entering the main room. She halts at the sight of Cat attempting to pry the door open, which is a sure way of tempting guard violence. Moving quickly, she strides over and pulls Cat away. She supposes that she might have put her clothes on if she wanted Cat to calmly react to her presence. Cat struggles away from her, and afraid of hurting her companion, Kara lets go. Instead of manhandling Cat, she stands in front of the door and spreads her arms.

Cat won’t look directly at her.

-x-

Kara is naked.

Cat knows this without having to drag her eyes up and down the other woman’s form. She refuses to blush, as she had the day prior. She’s seen the female form plenty before, especially as a young writer struggling to push her way beyond the fashion section but being ordered to cover photoshoots and shows. However, there’s nothing normal about anything that’s happening, so she doesn’t question how odd her response is. Everything is odd.

If Kara weren’t blocking her escape, then she wouldn’t even have to look in that direction. She is, though, and Cat eventually convinces her eyes to slide over. With incredible strength of will, she keeps her eyes stolidly on Kara’s face.

“Move aside,” she states, uncaring that Kara will not understand. She flicks her fingers forward and shoos Kara aside. The big lug doesn’t move. “I need to leave.”

Kara speaks that musical language of hers, hands still outstretched to keep Cat at a distance. While Kara doesn’t understand her, she’s fairly good at picking up on what Kara means. Yet another benefit of being a journalist, she muses; she can read between the lines and understand more than others.

Of course trying to open the door is dangerous. But so is staying here. Her boy needs her, and staying in these three small rooms is not getting her any closer to rescuing herself. Without her, Adam only has his distracted father for guidance, love, and protection. She can’t let him grow up without her. She just can’t, especially since she started taking time away from work to nurture a relationship with him.

“Move.”

Kara states something back, her tone painfully bland. She doesn’t get how Kara can be so calm, nor how Kara can smile so beatifically. If she hadn’t been informed already that Kara is a captive, just as she is, she might have mistaken the muscular woman for someone in complete control of the environment and completely at ease with her life.

Then again, if Kara has truly been here for ten years--if Kara had understood her question and answered in a way that meant the same to her as Kara's intended message--it’s entirely possible that Kara has grown so used to her surroundings and can imagine no other home. She’s done research on Stockholm Syndrome before, but she’s never gotten to see a case up close like this. Kara might be trying to keep her there because of an ignorance of what awaited outside the satellite.

She steps forward again but halts as the door slides open. Kara jumps away from the entrance and bows her head; Cat retracts her previous thoughts as she sees a new side to her cellmate. Rather than a smiling, relaxed titan of a woman, Kara has become small and submissive. She can’t say she’s fond of the change.

The guard moves toward her with something long and heavy in his hands. He’s talking in a different language, much gruffer and fuller of hard consonants than Kara’s. He raises his weapon, and she fights not to cower in front of him. She’s never been in a physical altercation before, but she won’t let them intimidate her. She’s Cat Grant, damn it, and she doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.

Still, when the blow comes flying at her, she can’t help but close her eyes and brace for impact. The impact, however, never comes. She hears the vague whoosh and thump of flesh being walloped, and she pries her eyes open. Her lips tremble into a frown as she watches Kara take the beating meant for her, crumpled by her feet and bleeding but blocking every blow.

Eventually, the guard grows tired. He spits on both of them, a lob of gooey mucus for each face, and storms out. Kara doesn’t move for several moments but then lifts a shaking hand to wipe the spittle from her face. She smears some of the blood, too. Cat swallows roughly and steps forward. Kara flinches and lugs herself back in front of the door.

The message has been received, she wishes she could communicate. Trying to escape that way does not yield the desired results. If Kara hadn’t awoken, then it would be her beaten and broken on the ground. She watches as Kara stands unsteadily and limps to the bathroom. The vague sound of hissing reaches her ears, and she retreats to the bedroom to lick her metaphorical wounds as Kara washes her physical ones.

When Kara returns and gingerly puts her clothing on, Cat can’t make eye contact. She sits on the bed with her head bowed, until Kara takes her hands and gently squeezes. Looking up, she spots the same kindness in Kara’s eyes as before the incident. How one person can take so much and not turn sour amazes her, and she decides that for now, she won’t make Kara’s life any harder. She’ll learn more about her environment, perhaps figure out a better way to communicate, and then craft a more thoughtful plan of escape.

-x-

Kara feels the muscles in her back twinging uncomfortably as she sifts through her small box of food. The beating was not the ideal way to start her day, but she knows she’s tough enough to bear a few bruises and a fractured bone much better than her small Cat, who looks dainty and fragile. While Cat’s size might be deceptive, there doesn’t appear to be much muscle or protective layering of flesh, whereas Kara has packed on weight to protect herself over the years. The more blows she can take while still staying upright and conscious, the better, and her structure reflects that.

Still, she doesn’t like getting hurt, especially when it can be avoided. She hopes that Cat’s sober behavior means that they have an understanding: messing with the door is asking for trouble, and Kara might not be able to protect her in the future. She’s lucky that the morning guard today is Bvurl; the hulking Ilque has hated her for a while and didn’t need a reason to change his target to Kara after she’d thrown herself in the way of his first blow. Other guards might be more intent on delivering the punishment to the actual transgressor.

Cat stands and leaves the room, and Kara listens closely to make sure there are no sounds of struggle by the door. Thankfully, there are none; all she hears is the hiss of the steamer and then footsteps. She hesitates when Cat enters the room without a top on. Although she still sports some form of undergarment that Kara is unfamiliar with, the rest of her upper body is bare. The removed garment is folded in her hand, and she kneels at Kara’s side.

Kara tenses.

Then, she lets the tension ease from her form as Cat mops the caked on blood from her face. She’s very careful around Kara’s lips, and Kara feels something she hasn’t for a very long time: her heart flutters.

Once that clean-up is completed, Cat shifts behind her and rubs her taut shoulders. Kara doesn’t know what’s prompting this behavior, but she won’t complain or fidget. Most of the touches in her life are hard and meant to damage. She craves positive intimacy and has been starving for many years. The last companion who willingly touched her was five years prior, as even K’hym preferred to keep a distance even under friendly circumstances. She understood, seeing as most of her companions were either very young or very scared, but she cannot express the simple joy of someone’s hands on her skin.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as Cat leans back.

Cat takes her hand and flips her palm up. With a finger, Cat traces a shape onto her palm and makes a noise. After watching this several times, Kara touches her finger to Cat’s palm and mirrors the movement.

“ _A_ ,” she says. The shape of her mouth required to make this sound feels very strange, but she’s glad she’s trying because Cat looks endlessly pleased with her. She doodles the symbol again and repeats: “ _A_.”


	4. Non

Cat sits on the bed while Kara grips the frame and lowers her body over and over again. On each dip, her arms flex pleasantly. Appreciating the view, Cat nibbles on her lower lip. Unaware of Kara’s sensitive hearing, she does nothing to calm the spike in her pulse, even when Kara shoots a speculative glance in her direction. A blush graces Kara’s cheeks, and Cat determines that perhaps a change in scenery would be prudent, lest she appear too interested in sleeping another night in Kara’s bed, except not alone.

She examines the screen with a keen eye: two figures are positioned near one another with a strange symbol between them and a constantly changing set of symbols below. A black screen flashes, followed by another, similar set, except the figures are different. Given the purpose of this satellite, she presumes this is some sort of fighting schedule. The symbol in the middle could simply be a form of saying ‘against’ or ‘versus,’ while the changing symbols might be a countdown.

Her eyes narrow when the screen changes again, and she sees Kara’s image on the screen across from a willowy creature with teeth like Swiss army knives, sharp edges jagging in different directions--and even one tooth that looks like a can opener due to a large gouge in one side. She eases off the bed to get a closer look, which draws Kara’s attention. Kara follows after, and when she taps the changing symbols, Kara holds up her fingers to indicate some form of numbering. So she was right, presumably.

She taps the screen and holds her fingers up. Kara taps fourteen times. Fingers earlier were used to indicate years, but Cat doesn’t know what this set is for. The fight could be in fourteen minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months. She doesn’t know what the typical schedule around here is, and the number fourteen doesn’t do much to help her out. She doesn’t even know if time flows the way she thinks it does, if a day here lasts as long as a day on Earth. Frustration roils in her stomach, and she stews quietly and stares even harder at the schedule.

“Cat.”

“Hm?”

Kara lifts her hands and draws them apart slowly. When they’re very wide, she shakes her head. She pushes them together until they’re touching and shakes her head. Somewhere in between, she nods. Cat ponders this a moment. She taps the screen and looks pointedly at Kara, who nods excitedly again.

She guesses this means the fight is not too soon, but not too far away either. Kara speaks quietly, and Cat listens with a certain amount of pleasure. She doesn’t understand the words, but she appreciates the soft quality of Kara’s voice; the lack of understanding does remind her, however, of her current mission.

“Alphabet, Kara.”

“ _A_.” Kara beams, and Cat waves her forward. She proceeds through the other twenty-five letters with but a few errors. The stop consonants give her trouble, and Cat can’t figure out how to precisely explain the tongue positioning to properly pronounce ‘T’ and ‘D.’

“Good.” She repeats the word a few times, letting Kara parrot after her. As an explanation of the word’s meaning she smiles broadly. When Kara smiles back, she tries her hardest not to think too hard about why her chest warms considerably. 

Kara is an attractive person--if she is a person. Cat isn’t entirely sure what the taxonomy for Kara might be. She’s tall and broad shouldered but gentle, with wide, startling blue eyes. Due to the scarcity of food, she’s lean, but Cat can imagine what she’d look like with a healthy diet. If she were born on Earth, she might have ended up a model or an actor, and Cat feels she’d have to be blind to not recognize how Kara is aesthetically pleasing.

That’s all the warmth is, she thinks. After all, she knows almost nothing about Kara, other than she seems to be twenty-four years old and in very good physical condition. Ten years of fighting will do that, of course, but Kara’s fitness seems to be something else as well. Then there’s the fact that Kara healed up nearly completely overnight from her beating the day prior and is capable of exercising. The night before, Kara’s wrist had turned purple, and Cat couldn’t touch the area without eliciting a gasp of pain.

The bruising is gone now, and Kara shows no signs of internal or external injury. Cat wonders if that misting shower thing has some sort of super-healing properties in it or if Kara is innately prone to fast healing.

Pushing her thoughts aside for the moment, she draws the three letters that correspond with her name on Kara’s palm. “C-A-T. Cat.”

“ _C-A-T_ ,” Kara responds immediately. “ _Cat_.”

“K-A-R-A.”

Kara repeats the letters slowly and closes her eyes to think. She smiles, the expression blooming over her lips. “ _Kara_.”

“Good.”

“ _Good_!”

“Very good,” Cat adds. Kara is a learning quite quickly, but they’re still a ways off of clear and easy communication. A working vocabulary of four words isn’t going to do much, after all. Still, she can’t help but feel hopeful as Kara returns to her exercise.

On each depression, Kara rotates through her words. “ _Cat. Kara. Good. Food._ ”

-x-

When Cat leaves the room, Kara sits on the bed, pulls the pillow from the wall, and stares at the list of names. She traces her finger down each scratched in mark and worries that sooner or later, this list will get another name longer. She even knows how to spell Cat’s name in her native language, although her ability to draw the symbols is still a bit weak. She gazes at K’hym’s name and sucks in a deep breath.

There is so very little time to grieve, no matter how much she wants to collapse and give up. In a different life, she might have been able to process her emotions and feel sadness--but here, on the satellite, she can’t be weak. She can’t lose sight of her goal, even if that goal is nothing other than delaying the inevitable fate of all her companions.

She hears Cat’s footsteps and jams the pillow back into place. She’s pretty sure Cat doesn’t need to see her list of failures. Thankfully, Cat doesn’t seem to notice her jumpy reaction, and she pulls the food crate out to look like she has something to do.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Cat perks up at the last word. “ _Yes_ ,” she replies, the Kryptonian affirmative a little stiff on her tongue.

Kara sorts through their options and hands over yet another bar of indistinguishable content. She eats her own quickly, not allowing the bland taste to sit too long on her tongue. She’s glad to see Cat does the same. Leaving Cat to choose a dripper, if she’s thirsty that is, Kara checks the time and grimaces.

She enters the main room and faces the wall opposite the door. Thirty seconds later, it opens, and a guard strides in. He slaps the bangles on her wrists and escorts her out; she sees Cat stepping into the room in her peripherals but has no way of explaining that this is a normal procedure. The door slides shut once more, and she can hear Cat hollering from within. She truly hopes Cat doesn’t do anything stupid while she’s gone, like try to manipulate the door again. Until she’s back, Cat is vulnerable to abuse.

The guard shoves her a little harder than necessary, and she stumbles into the pristine medical bay. There are three fighters ahead of her, so she takes to staring up at the ceiling and practicing Cat’s funny language in her head. The slow shuffle up to the doctor gives her more than enough time to run through all the letters three times over, even with the slight pause to recall what comes after ‘U.’

“Zor-El.”

Kara steps up and opens her mouth, allowing one of the doctor’s many hands to grip her chin while another inserted a tongue depressor, and still another shone a beam of light down her throat. Illness could be devastating on the small satellite, so she doesn’t fight the weekly inspection. If she has so much as a cough, it could impact her ability to keep her companion alive, and while the IFL is not good at many things regarding fighter-upkeep, they are remarkably happy to stave off sickness. She supposes doing so is just good business.

The doctor lifts her arms and tests her joints. She moves through the required movements to show her full range of motion, and he places a hand on her forehead to gauge her skin temperature. Finally, he has a guard hold her arm down and slices a blade down her wrist. Although she no longer struggles, she had fought very hard to get away from his blood-letting the first time, and he has yet to trust her since. Ten years is a long time to hold such a grudge, especially with her weekly visits where she sits still, but he doesn’t take many risks. She’s seen him have guards pin down smaller fighters than her for less.

He barks a few things out to his assistant, who dutifully marks each word down on a tablet. The guard yanks her along, and she figures she’s still healthy if she didn’t require an injection or a pill. She keeps her head bowed as he escorts her back to her room, but she listens closely as he calls out to other guards they pass.

She’s gathered a good deal of intelligence this way, which is how she knows she’ll be fighting a Daxamite in just a few weeks. There’s a hefty amount of betting on this match, given how similar their powers seem to be, and the guards have a pool amongst themselves. She’s disappointed to learn that most are betting against her. After her stumble in the arena, she shouldn’t be surprised. Nobody seems to know that her loss was forced, not that she thinks anyone would listen if she told them.

She lets him shove her back into her quarters, where Cat immediately tugs her close and examines her closely.

“I’m fine,” she whispers. “I’m _good_.”

Cat goes off in her language, her hands carefully probing Kara’s body--likely for injury. Kara submits to the procedure, knowing that she’s perfectly alright but enjoying the contact anyway. There may come a day when Cat is no longer so anxious for her safety, when touches will be few and far between.

“ _Good_ ,” she repeats when Cat’s exploration ends. Cat cups her cheek, and she can’t look away. Then, abrupt as always, Cat drops her hand and turns back to the bedroom. Kara reaches up to graze her fingers along her cheek.


	5. Ten

It isn’t until there’s nothing left to do that Kara feels the awkwardness of having a new companion around. She hasn’t dealt with this in a long while, as she’d learned to communicate with K’hym around three months into their two year companionship. With K’hym, she’d known topics they could talk about--as well as topics to avoid at all costs. However, she can barely even understand Cat, let alone hold a conversation. So, when her exercise is done, and her appointment is over, she isn’t sure what to do other than sit on the ground and stare at the wiry blonde in silence.

There is much she wants to know about Cat, both personal details and information about Cat’s planet of origin. Given that Cat hasn’t been on the satellite long, there is likely a good deal of emotional trauma that needs to be dealt with, and Kara desperately wants to help, even if all she can do is listen and apologize. She remembers the first few weeks she spent here, the fear that coated everything around her and the hopelessness that constantly threatened to suck the life from her lungs. While their experiences are definitely different, she assumes there is plenty of negativity swirling around inside her companion.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” she says quietly. Cat shows no indication of having even heard her. “If you were a fighter, at least you would be able to control your fate, instead of having someone else decide if you live or die. Instead of having me.”

Cat stares at her now, and she wonders if some part of her apology had crossed the language barrier. She tries to smile, but she’s all but certain the expression is strained; Cat takes her hands and massages her palms, and her smile gradually becomes genuine. Her heart is still as heavy as ever, but this is progress.

She doesn’t remember feeling this morose when she lost Buelle and gained K’hym; she recalls a few hours of somber reflection and perhaps a few crying spells. She supposes that by this point she’s growing used to the immutable fact that this is her life. She is doomed to let her companion die over and over again, especially if the IFL continues to sabotage her. Knowing why the mysterious punishment occurred would be helpful, but she has no one to ask--and she doubts anyone would tell.

Cat lifts her hand and says a word. Kara quickly transitions to learning mode and repeats, “ _Hand_.”

“ _Finger.”_

Kara raises a finger and repeats. She does the same for each body part Cat names, her cheeks flushing as Cat teaches her _lips_. She stares at Cat’s thoughtfully and then drags her gaze up. She has no right to think these thoughts. If not for her, Cat might still be at home. The lesson progresses to emotions, and Kara has to try very hard not to laugh at the exaggerated facial movements Cat pulls to explain what each word means.

Before Cat can move on to directions, Kara interrupts. “ _Cat sad?”_

Cat hesitates a moment, her eyes searching the far wall. There’s nothing there, so Kara knows Cat is somehow looking beyond, perhaps into the dark recesses of space. “ _Yes._ ” More words flow after, but the sentence structure is complex, and there are too many unfamiliar words.

“ _No.”_ Kara lifts her hands. She doesn’t know how to make Cat slow down, but she can ask for a pause in order to catch up.

“Adam,” Cat says quietly. She pantomimes a bump on her stomach; Kara wonders if human females also gestate their young just below the belly, and if ‘Adam’ is the word for pregnancy.

Kara holds an imaginary baby in her hands and rocks her arms back and forth. “Adam?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Silence reigns. Kara sits on the edge of her bed and examines her _hands_. If Cat is talking about a pregnancy, then there must be a child involved, which makes Cat's presence on the satellite more depressing. She knows Cat is still nearby, even without seeing her, and is still surprised when Cat sidles up next to her. They sit side by side, and Kara wonders if there’s anything she can say that will mean anything. She comes up empty.

-x-

Cat feels all at once like she ought not have said anything about her son. While she does need to get back to him, she knows Kara can’t do much about her imprisonment, at least not yet. Mentioning Adam had been a moment of weakness, and now, Kara seems depressed on her behalf. Kara’s too decent to be subjected to her woes. Besides, she can be strong all on her own.

The thought dies when Kara’s arm wraps tentatively around her shoulder. Without thinking, she leans against Kara’s shoulder and allows the other woman’s strength help her feel safe. Kara slowly lies down on the mattress, giving her plenty of time to flee, but she merely follows along. She hasn’t slept much in the past few days--not since she had been abducted really. Before being introduced to Kara’s quarters, she’d been kept in a dark cell with a dozen other beings. She hadn’t felt safe closing her eyes for more than a few moments at a time, even when exhaustion nipped at her heels.

In Kara’s room, she’d been too fixated on panicking and escaping to relax, until now. Although the intensity of the lights imply it’s still day time, she lets her eyes slip shut. With her head on Kara’s chest, she can hear the strong, steady pounding of Kara’s heart, and she can feel the slow rise and fall of Kara’s breathing. As she falls asleep, she feels Kara’s fingers rubbing along her upper arm, and the gentle motion lulls her deeper into rest.

The lights are dim when she awakens, and Kara sleeps beneath her. She yawns and carefully extracts herself from Kara’s now-limp grasp. She could use a bit more sleep, she considers, but she also needs to relieve her bladder. Having a few minutes to herself would also be appreciated, so she pads to the bathroom and stands over the bodily waste disposal unit. Her first attempt at this machine had been nigh disastrous, as well as mortifying. Now, however, she knows how to maneuver her body correctly in order to not pee on herself.

The whirring of the machine is loud, and she hopes she doesn’t wake Kara up. From what she’s seen of Kara’s daily routine, the other woman likely needs a lot of rest and a lot of food. She wonders if her presence is negatively impacting Kara’s diet--but she has no way of knowing without directly asking Kara. Although Kara learns quickly, they haven’t yet reached words like ‘rationing’ or ‘starving.’

Feeling a little dirty, she peels her bra off and shimmies out of her pants and underwear. The steamer seems fairly user friendly, so she steps in and waits. Nothing happens. There’s some sort of scanner in front of her, so she taps it several times. At the sound of her name, Cat glances to the doorway. Kara stands there, looking bed-ruffled and sleepy. Cat quickly covers her breasts and groin, even though Kara doesn’t seem fazed by her nudity.

Kara stands with her feet shoulder-width apart and holds her arms perpendicular from her body. Then, she gestures at Cat; mimicking Kara’s positioning, Cat waits in the steamer for less than two seconds before the machine activates. The heat is intense, almost horrifyingly so, but short lived. She barely has time to register the pain, and then, she’s done. She feels cleaner but also as if nothing has actually changed. She sniffs her arm and recoils from the strong scent of disinfectant. What she wouldn’t give for a real shower or a bath.

She scrambles out of the steamer as Kara picks up her clothing and sends it through a hatch in the wall. Despite lunging forward quickly, she’s too late to stop the destruction of her last remaining artifacts from home. Naked and vulnerable, she glares at Kara. She refuses to be nude for the rest of her time here, so Kara had better give her something else to wear. Thankfully, Kara opens the hatch once more and retrieves a set of boring gray linens, which she places into Cat’s waiting hands.

Kara lingers a moment longer. “Cat?”

“Yes?”

She watches Kara point to her body. “Word?”

Now is hardly the time for a lesson on human anatomy. Red splotches stain the area around her collarbones and continue up her neck. Covering her embarrassment with anger, she snaps, “Go away.”

When she adds in the hand motion of shooing someone away, Kara stiffens, nods, and flees to the bedroom. She’s a bit excited that Kara is enthusiastic about learning English for her, but there are just certain things she’s not prepared to teach. Still, she regrets her tone, as well as the look of hurt that flashed through Kara's eyes at the curt dismissal. She's not one for apologies, but she might be able to muster one for Kara.


	6. Suzh

Her desire to apologize dissipates as she enters the bedroom and finds Kara already curled up on the floor, far from the bed with her back to the door. Cat finds that she’s a little--just a little, not a lot--disappointed that Kara won’t be sharing her body heat. Wanting Kara to share the bed has very little to do with the guilt she feels about their last interaction, compounded on the pitiful sight of the broad-shouldered woman huddled on a ratty blanket that probably provides no relief from the hard ground.

She grimaces and settles on the bed. Perhaps, for now, this will have to do. When she’s tired or hungry, she tends to be a bit snarkier than she needs to; she’ll rest up and then apologize in the morning, when they’re both fresh. Then, they can continue forward. Generally speaking, Cat likes having a plan, even for something as small as this. Her mother had controlled her childhood, and she’d grown into an adult who craved authority over her own life and everything within it. This experience is moderately anxiety-inducing, given that she’s barely in command of her being, but she’s tough enough to survive.

She stares at the wall and waits for sleep to overtake her once more. Her eyes simply won’t shut. Internally, she growls and groans; she flops over onto her other side and wiggles to get more comfortable--well, as comfortable as one can get on a sub-par cot on an alien satellite housing fighting slaves. She huffs. And somewhere between flopping about like a beached seal and the lights coming up to signal a fresh day, she supposes she must have fallen asleep--although it barely feels like she’s blinked.

Stretching her arms, she notes that she’s alone in the room; however, she can hear movement in the main space, so she doesn’t bother panicking. Although she’s not fully rested, she doesn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer. The quicker she gets this over with, the sooner she won’t be saddled with remorse.

She straightens her horribly drab clothing--it seems the aliens running this satellite have roughly the same fashion sense as her ex-husband--and strides into the main room. Kara sits by the door with a crate in her hands. Cat watches the other woman sort through more of those tasteless nutrient bars; a delivery arrived while she slept, she deduces.

“Kara?”

“Good morning,” Kara replies, stumbling a bit on the transition between words. Cat doesn’t recall teaching Kara that phrase so much as saying it briefly in passing. That Kara has picked up on the correct context is impressive.

“Good morning. _Eat_?” Kara hands her a bar and a dripper. She eats slowly and then clears her throat. “I don’t know how much of this you’ll understand, but I have to apologize to you. The way I reacted last night was unbecoming.”

“Unbecoming.” Kara tastes the word and tilts her head.

“Impolite. Not good.”

“Unbecoming, not good.”

“Exactly. That’s what I was last night.”

Kara is quiet, and Cat isn’t sure her point has been made. Before she can speak again, however, Kara nods. “ _Okay._ ”

“How did you sleep?” Cat says each word slowly and with great enunciation. On ‘you,’ she touches Kara’s shoulder, and on ‘sleep,’ she folds her hands by her head and closes her eyes.

“Not good.”

“Me, either.” Cat yawns. “So, let’s agree to just move forward, hm?”

“Hm.”

“Mm-hm.”

Kara lifts the box and carries it to the bedroom, where she compiles the food into one box. The empty one is set near the door, presumably for disposal. Cat watches this all dispassionately, and when Kara is done, she sets a hand on her waist and cocks her hip.

“So, what do you do around here? Other than exercise.”

“No.”

Cat sighs. “This is going to take a while, isn’t it?”

Kara smiles at her, and she can’t find it within herself to be frustrated. Kara’s a good sport about learning a totally different language, so she won’t complain.

-x-

Just after midday, Kara finds herself alone in the main room. With her slightly-enhanced hearing, she can hear soft snoozes, which means the other woman has finally laid down. Now that she’s alone, at least for a short while, she means to practice speaking Cat’s language. She’s been listening very closely to everything Cat says. She may not know one hundred percent what each and every word is, but she’s got a fairly good idea based on context and tone. If she can start constructing sentences, then she can have Cat correct her.

She’s in the middle of one such construction when Cat appears in the doorway. She flushes and nods her head in greeting. “ _Good morning._ ”

“ _Afternoon. Good afternoon._ ”

Morning and afternoon are times. Kara logs that away. Earlier, Cat had said ‘last night’ in reference to the misunderstanding in the bathroom--which very well could be another time. “ _Good last night?_ ”

A small sound, almost a chuff of a laugh, stifles in Cat’s throat. “ _Good night. No last._ ”

“ _Good night._ ” Kara frowns. “ _Last?_ ”

Cat gestures behind her. Last is before, or something close. Last night, then is the night before. Kara says a few more words, seeking clarification. Unabashed, she doesn’t falter when Cat holds in a laugh or finds her ignorance entertaining.

“ _Fights Kara good,_ ” Kara posits.

“ _No, Kara fights good. I mean well. Kara fights well_.”

Subject-verb-object. Kara knows this will be a struggle in the future, as it’s quite different from Kryptonian structure, but she’s got to try. “ _Cat sleeps well?_ ”

“ _Better this time. Better is stronger than good. Good, better, best._ ”

And so the lesson continues, and Kara devotes herself to the learning with an enthusiasm and fervor she thought she’d lost for good. As a child, she’d loved sitting in class and studying her crystals. Every new fact had been recited to her parents, who would pat her head and ask her further questions. She recognizes now that they already knew everything she told them, but their patience with her excitement had encouraged her academic achievement. Thinking of them now tugs on her heart and tear ducts. A change in subject is definitely necessary.

-x-

“Where Cat home?”

“Earth.” Cat crosses her ankles and leans back on her palm. She endeavors to keep her answers simple, as she realizes Kara can and does learn more from conversation than instruction. As Kara grows as a speaker, she will insert more and varied words. “I live in National City. Where is Kara’s home?”

A shadow of darkness crosses Kara’s mien and disappears quickly. “Here.”

“Before here.”

“What is Cat’s job?”

“I’m a journalist. I write for a newspaper.” Cat cocks an eyebrow and wonders why Kara is so unwilling to talk about home. Perhaps there is some sort of trauma related to wherever that might be, like an abusive family. She’ll let the matter go for now, as she supposes she has no reason to press for clarity.

Kara tentatively touches her ankle, drawing her attention back to the conversation. She enjoys the soft warmth of Kara’s fingertips and misses them when they flit back to Kara’s side. “Cat likes job?”

“Very much so, yes.” Cat holds a hand toward her body. “My. I like my job. You, your. She, her.”

Kara dips her head. “I not like my job.”

“Do not.”

“I do not like my job.”

Cat leans forward. “What would you want to do instead?”

Kara shakes her head, but when Cat attempts to explain in simpler terms, Kara shakes again and again. “No.”

“You don’t know?”

“Don’t?”

“Do not.” Cat pushes onward. She’s very curious about Kara, even if they can’t communicate enough for her to ask all her questions. She wants to know so much, from how the satellite functions to what Kara’s favorite color is. She refuses to address why she might want to know these personal details. “What did you want to do when you were a child?”

She gives Kara some time to think and tamps down on her pity. That Kara either doesn’t remember or never dreamed of her future is misery-inspiring, but she knows that her sympathy is misplaced. Kara has survived this vicious environment for ten years, so Cat knows she’s strong both mentally and physically. Instead, she resolves to push Kara to dream once more.

Kara says something in her language and holds something invisible between her thumb and forefinger. She slides her hand down and up and down and up. Cat catches on quickly.

“You wanted to paint.”

“Paint,” Kara says, the word sounding so natural in her mouth that Cat might have mistaken her for a native speaker. “I wanted to paint.”


	7. Kizh

Although Kara has gone to the common yard twice a week for the duration of her stay, she’s cognizant that everything will be new to Cat. The practiced poise of her companion notwithstanding, she bets the variety of species will be a bit intimidating. Then again, Cat might be unflappable and try to use this opportunity to escape. She’s not sure where Cat will escape to, given that they’re on a satellite orbiting an unknown planet in a system Rao only knows how far from Earth--but she gets the feeling Cat thinks well on her feet.

Cat walks a step or two behind her, which she assumes is Cat’s way of appearing non-threatening to those outside their quarters. A covert glance over her shoulder reveals that Cat’s eyes rove the corridors. She shouldn’t be surprised; Cat might have stopped trying to escape by direct means, but she’s come to understand how indomitable Cat’s spirit is. She admires that about Cat and wishes she were still so fervently invested in getting away from this hellish satellite.

“Stay close,” she murmurs as they approach the broad doors.

“ _Oh, of course_.”

The doors slide sideways, admitting them both to a room with intensified gravity and harsh lighting. Kara adjusts to the extra strain on her body with barely a blink, but Cat stiffens and stumbles over the threshold. Catching her, Kara eases her back upright and offers an arm for support. Cat gingerly takes her forearm but doesn’t rest against her. The contact, then, is for moral support rather than physical. Kara doesn’t mind either way. She’s just pleased that Cat will touch her.

The room isn’t as full as it usually is. Kara notes several absences in particular; two of those missing had been in fights with much stronger beings, which means they are either recuperating or dead. She hopes the latter isn’t true, but then again, perhaps death is desirable to those tired of this existence.

She guides Cat to a set of weights in the middle of the room, figuring that Cat will enjoy looking at everything while she strains her muscles and works up a sweat. While there is no rule against fraternization in this room, she doesn’t normally talk to anyone, not even her companion. Better to save her breath for exercising, as the only thing saving them both from brutality is the resilience of her body. Besides, nobody speaks her language, and she doesn’t speak theirs.

“You must be Kara.”

She halts abruptly, nearly dropping the weight on her foot. Although the words are accented, someone is speaking Kryptonian--which can only mean that the figure approaching is her future opponent. She appraises his muscular frame, cut jaw, and careless smile. He hasn’t been here long.

“And you the Daxamite.”

He comes to a halt and folds his arms over his sculpted chest. When he smiles, he all but emanates self-confidence to rival Cat’s. As a child, she’d hated the Daxamites for their slavery and their frippery, but now, he is a prisoner here, just as she is. She doesn’t have the energy to hold his home planet against him.

“My reputation precedes me.”

She continues lifting the weights until her repetition is done. Shifting into a squat, she lowers herself with the weights in hand. If he has a reputation, she has never encountered it. “Do you need something?”

“Just scoping out the competition.” He openly glances Cat over and grins. “It’s a pity they’re going to kill this one.”

Kara grits her teeth. “You’ve scoped. You can leave now.”

He bites his knuckle and winks as he walks away. She spots his companion standing along the wall, head bowed and body still. Her heart tightens painfully in her chest; being the Daxamite’s companion must be miserable, if that one interaction is anything to judge by. Moreover, Kara is going to do everything she can to protect Cat, which means condemning the other companion.

“ _You’ll beat him_ ,” Cat says, breaking her silence.

" _I have to._ ”

-x-

She stands in the steamer for longer than is necessary. The mist has long since been sprayed on her skin, and she ought to step out. The quiet solitude, however, is soothing. Running into the Daxamite had been a jarring reminder of home. He knows about Krypton and its customs, just as she knows of Daxam. He might be the only other being in existence who knows what she’s lost.

She scrubs the tears from her cheeks and fetches a fresh set of clothing.

-x-

“So, you’re going to fight him?”

Kara nods, lying back and tucking her hands behind her head. “One week.”

Cat settles beside her on the bed, her posture still stiff. “What did he say to you in the gym? You didn’t seem happy with him as he left.”

“Nothing. Fighters do not talk to fighters.”

There’s more to the story, but Cat wonders if the reticence is due to the language barrier or something else. Kara hasn’t said much since they returned from the gym, and Cat is growing tired of entertaining herself. And she has to admit that she’s worried about the sudden dip in Kara’s mood, which seems to dampen everything a few watts.

“Did he say anything about me?”

“... _Yes_.”

“What did he say?”

“It is sad that you will die.”

An uncomfortable silence falls between them. Cat is uncomfortable considering her mortality--there’s too much left to do, and Adam needs her. She can’t die now, no matter what, and Kara has to make sure of it.

“Can you beat him?”

“I do not see his fights.” Kara turns her head and meets Cat’s gaze evenly. “I do not lose.”

Cat is on the verge of complaining that Kara’s recent loss is the whole reason they’re sitting there together. She thinks better of it, however, and nods. “I appreciate that.”

She spends the rest of the week watching Kara closely, tending to Kara’s needs and massaging the tension from Kara’s shoulders. She wants Kara in peak physical condition, just as much as she’s come to enjoy feeling Kara’s smooth skin beneath her fingers. For someone who’s been fighting for a decade, Kara is surprisingly soft and unmarred by her battles. She also enjoys the breathy way Kara says thank you, and how Kara can’t always meet her gaze after a particularly good rub down.

She’s formed an attachment based on circumstance, she knows. Kara is the only one around and the only one she can interact with, so the feelings--the fondness is predicated on their forced cohabitation. Were they in a different place, with others to interact with, she likely wouldn’t have given Kara a second glance. It’s perfectly plausible, yet when she looks at Kara and her heart speeds up, she isn’t sure she can temper her feelings with rational thought for much longer.

-x-

“So.”

Kara stares at the fight organizer in front of her and up at the translator just behind him. He’s compact and bares his teeth as he talks, although this could be because of the shape of his jaw rather than some form of aggression. The translator has a number of openings on his head, with two beady eyes at the top. Each mouth--she hopes they are mouths--has a different shape, and he uses one to talk to her and another to the organizer.

“So?” she asks, not wanting to goad a negative reaction but wanting to resume her life without this anxiety-inducing interruption.

“We have come to offer you a deal.”

Trepidation fills her. “What kind of deal?”

“You’ve been too good for too long, Kryptonian.”

“Kara--”

“That worked for a while.” The organizer leans back and cocks his head. “But viewers aren’t interested anymore. It’s boring. You enter the ring, and nobody can bet against you. Except maybe fools.”

“You rigged my fight.”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t rigged. We didn’t paralyze you. We just made it harder for you to win. Better for business if it looks like a struggle.”

She clenches a fist against her thigh; she disagrees with their methods and loathes the result, but she has no power against them. “What do you want now, then?”

“Turns out seeing you get your ass handed to you really drove the ratings. People love seeing a champion fail.”

“And?” She doesn’t like where this is going, but she can’t stop her curiosity.

“And so, we’ve got an offer for you: lose the next fight, and we’ll let you go. Let Mon-El of Daxam win--but make it look good--and we can officially declare your retirement from the scene.”

“I’d be free.”

“Exactly.” He clasps his hands over his belly. “Well?”

“Why would you offer this to me instead of just rigging the next fight?”

“The same trick wouldn’t work twice on you, would it? You lost the first one because you didn’t know it was coming, but you’d be ready for it to happen again.”

She averts her eyes, knowing that he’s right and hating that he knows that he’s right. “Yes.”

“We turn it up any more, and you might not be able to look like you still got some fight in you. You throw the match without our interference, though, and everybody gets what they want.”

Kara’s heart thuds painfully hard against her ribs. “You promise?”

The simplicity of the question forces a laugh from him, deep and wheezing. “I promise.”

She hesitates. “Losing means my companion will be killed.”

“Details.” He stands and extends his hand. She shakes it because she has to, and she hopes he knows she hasn’t agreed to anything. “See you tomorrow in the ring.”


	8. Duhv

Cat can’t understand what’s happening, save for a word or two here and there, and her curiosity is, so to speak, killing the Cat. She wishes vainly that she’d bothered to learn more than a word or two of Kara’s language, but she’s been too focused on teaching Kara English. Kara has a knack for learning, which makes the process easier, and Cat’s neuroplasticity is no longer all that elastic. She never used to avoid a task due to its difficulty, so she’s disappointed in herself that this once, she did.

Whatever the conversation is about, Kara does not look happy. The taller blonde does shake the hand of one of the visitors, but there’s no smile on her face--only a tight-lipped look of… of resignation? Cat blinks and frowns, and as soon as they’re alone once more, she steps forward with a question on her lips. Kara holds a hand up and halts the few first syllables of her words.

“ _I have to think_.”

“About what?” Cat steps into her path. “What was that about? What did they want?”

Kara grits her teeth, and although she could simply push Cat from her way, she lets the slighter woman blockade her. “ _My fight_.”

“What about your fight?”

“ _They want me to lose_.”

Cat barks a laugh. “Well, too bad for them.”

Kara nods uncertainly. “ _They say I will go free_.”

“If you lose?”

“ _Yes_.”

Something heavy and leaden sinks in her stomach, causing a wave of unease and nausea to crash through her. Kara had been trapped here for ten years--she’d lost out on much of her childhood and the beginning of adulthood. She hadn’t seen the outside world or experienced what the universe had to offer her. In contrast, Cat had lived a rather full life--a spoiled childhood marred only by her mother’s expectations, an excellent education, a blossoming career, and a son. Most of the boxes on a typical person’s checklist of a successful life had been checked, and she is just under thirty years old.

She ought to let Kara escape. She ought to give Kara the chance to really live.

But she’s too selfish, she knows that beyond a shadow of a doubt. If gaining freedom for Kara means having to die, then she’s not willing. There has to be another way. She touches Kara’s wrist and stares into Kara’s eyes.

“I do not want to die,” she says slowly and firmly. “You cannot lose.”

At Kara’s stiff nod, Cat relents. She releases her grip and follows Kara into the bedroom. Kara curls up on her blanket and stares at the wall, silent and clearly still upset. Sighing, Cat sits beside her but can’t bring herself to initiate contact once again.

“What happens if you win?”

Kara shakes her head. “ _They will not be happy_.”

“Would they punish you?”

“ _My first year, I lost often. Five companions. They took away my food, and I lost another.” Kara brings her knees closer to her chest. “If I lose, you will die. If I win, you may still die._ ”

The only difference, Cat realizes, is whether Kara will be stuck here or freed. But this is pure speculation. They don’t know that she’ll be killed if Kara wins; sure, it’s a risk, but she doesn’t have much to lose. She cups Kara’s cheek.

“If you lose, I will definitely die. But if you win, there’s a chance that I won’t.” When Kara turns her face slowly to lean into the touch, Cat tamps down on a shiver. “You will win, if only to take that chance for me. We will find a way out of this--one in which both of us is alive and free.”

Kara slips forward and claims a brief, chaste kiss. Cat freezes quite still until Kara draws back. “ _I will try_ ,” she promises. “ _For you_.”

-x-

After barely sleeping through the night, Kara gets up with the brightening lights and moves to the main room to start stretching out her muscles. Once she’s taken to the arena, there will be little to no time for preparation, and she isn’t interested in injuring herself--not when the Daxamite will be aiming to hurt her, too. She draws her arms across her chest and feels the pleasant tug of her muscles as they loosen.

As she prepares, she wonders what she should do in the ring. Cat doesn’t deserve to die, and Kara doesn’t want to add another name to her list… But if Cat’s name could potentially be the last? Her throat clenches. One life to save many. That had been the main reason she’d stayed behind to ensure his escape.

She still remembers with painful clarity watching them examine her baby cousin, as if he were a fine filet of meat. She didn’t know what they were saying, but they were touching him and pinching his tiny arms and legs and talking to one another, all while ignoring her. And when the translator walked in, she got her answers, even if they weren’t the answers she wanted.

They would raise him to be their champion fighter. In this solar system, with its yellow sun, he would grow strong and resilient, a perfect punching bag and combat machine. Her heart broke for him, and she’d argued with them to keep her instead.Yes, he would grow big and strong for them, but would he make them much money? As a small, slender child, she would be easier to market as an underdog. If they let him go, she would fight for them.

She’d given up everything to give him his freedom, and she wonders if anyone would do the same for her. Certainly, Cat is opposed to the idea. She bends down and touches her toes, keeping her knees locked to better stretch the back of her legs. While she can’t blame Cat for clinging so tightly to life, she also resents that once again she’s being asked to forgo her freedom for the sake of another. The part that sickens and saddens her is that she’s going to win, no matter what, for the same reason she fought so hard for Kal.

She should have died with her planet, and hers is already borrowed time. When she dies, Rao will welcome her home, and her family will be waiting for her. When she dies, that will be her freedom.

Cat enters the main room a short while later; Kara takes her hands and assures her in somber tones that she will do everything in her power to win. She notes there’s a hint of sadness in Cat’s gaze, but she won’t let herself be distracted by emotional matters right now. Winning against the Daxamite could be a struggle, especially if they try to enhance the crippling bangles they use on her wrists on every excursion outside her quarters. As a resident of a sister planet to Krypton, he’ll have similar powers to hers, and she has no idea how much training he’s undergone. While her power comes in a lean form, he has bulk, strength, and energy from the yellow sun as well.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Cat whispers. “ _For not giving up._ ”

It’s a funny statement, Kara thinks as she smiles emptily and nods, since this is indeed her giving up.


	9. Ghehn

Even in the dark corridor, she can hear the chanting, the stomping of feet, and the blare of the announcer. If she focuses, she can even listen to the multitude of translators echoing after every energized statement. Focusing on the hype, however, is not going to help her win the upcoming fight. Instead, she pulls inward and counts her breaths to slow her heart beat. She thinks of Cat and everything riding on this fight. Finally, she reminds herself that this fight is finite, that no matter how much she hurts, she will eventually recover. On Krypton, there was a religious teaching: Following every pain is blessed relief. Although far from Rao, she still has faith.

She stands and flicks her fingers toward the ground. Bouncing from foot to foot, she makes sure she’s loose and limber, just before the door to the arena slides down into the ground. Under the blaring lights, she can only just make out the Daxamite entering opposite. Even with her vision impeded, she can see him waving to their audience. He bows to them as well, and she does her best to not let her displeasure distract her. He may treat this like a game, she resolves, but she’ll teach him how serious he ought to be.

Finally, the lights glide off her face and circle the arena. Now their audience is clearly illuminated, and she ignores how many negative expressions are thrown her way, along with the jeering and screaming. They all want her to lose; it seems the only one rooting for her to win is Cat. One voice versus hundreds, yet she has no doubt in her mind which is louder, more important.

The referee stands between them, its center limb raised. Kara lifts her hands into a defensive position and spaces her feet to make sure he can’t knock her down even if he charges. When the limb drops and the ref backs away, he grins at her and lobs a feign of a punch. Sidestepping easily, she sizes up his movements. Having never seen him in combat, she doesn’t want to risk expending energy this early--not until she sees what he can dish out. Unfortunately, he’s still playing it up for the audience, his style much more like a drunk’s than a fighter’s.

As he wobbles a little too close to try another punch, she grabs his wrist, whirls around, and slams her elbow into his nose. Stumbling backward, he clutches his face. Blood dribbles between his fingers, and his fun-loving attitude dissipates in an instant. He drags his wrist across his upper lip, dragging some of the blood onto his cheek as the rest drips along his upper lip. From the awkward angle of his nose, she’s fairly certain she broke it.

“You know what my people say about yours?” He drops back while he speaks, goading her to both attack and respond. She does neither, so he continues the conversation alone. “You pretend like you’re heros to the universe, but we all know the truth. You want the glory and the fame, but none of the problems you create when you interfere. Greatest planet for scientific discovery?”

He spits blood, and she moves to hit him again. His distraction isn’t great enough that he doesn’t see her coming, and he lifts her body over his shoulder and slams her into the ground. The breath is knocked from her lungs, and she gasps for oxygen. While he keeps her pinned, he whispers in her ear.

“The most famous of your scientists, your Dr. Zor-El, was a monster. Did you know that?” She struggles against his grip, raw fury taking hold over her. “He mutilated other races, maybe even some of your own. Your people wanted to think of yourselves as superior, but all you were was murderous trash.”

Blinded by anger, she bites down on his forearm, gouging his skin with her teeth. Not caring about the bitter tang of blood on her tongue, she tackles him forward and rains blows down on his face. He eventually gets his arms in front of her blows to protect himself, and she staggers backward. She feels feral, but there’s little she can do to stop herself. As soon as he’s on his feet again, she sprints around him and grabs a fistful of hair before he can react. Placing a foot against his back, she yanks hard, and he distorts into an uncomfortable u-like position. She could snap his spine, she thinks. She could make it so he couldn’t say those horrible things again.

She can’t, however, because the moment she moves to do so, her bangles flare, and her power wanes just enough for him to free himself. He uses her moment of forced weakness to punch her solar plexus and chop at the delicate front portion of her throat. She careens down, but he catches her. She feels the move before it happens but is helpless to stop him as he adjusts his grip and slams her atop his knee.

Something cracks.

She shudders.

He lets her tumble away and turns to the crowd with his arms raised. From her position on the ground, Kara listens to the dull beeping of the timer. If she doesn’t get up in time, Cat dies. She gets a palm flat, but her bangles flare again. She slips. Cat is going to die. Cat is going to die. The thought circles endlessly through her mind, and her heart constricts.

She’s not going to give the IFL what it wants. For all she knows, her freedom will be conditional. She’ll be retired for a few years, and then, they’ll just drag her back in for some sort of comeback. She’s seen the way this place works over the years, and she’s done playing by the rules. She slaps one palm on the ground and then the other.

The bangles surge and surge and surge, but she pushes to her feet before the last beep can sound. The crowd hushes, alerting the Daxamite that his victory isn’t as secure as he thought it was. He rounds on her, glaring.

“You really want me to kill you?”

She trembles with the effort of remaining upright. When he moves forward, she ducks and dodges. Each motion is agony, but she keeps her mien blank. He swipes, and she retreats. It’s a bit like dancing, as he’s just wild enough to let her know what’s coming next so she can move out of the way. The roaring of the crowd resumes its earlier intensity and pitches every time he gets close to her. Slowly, however, the noise starts to die. She avoids him for thirty seconds, and then a minute, and then five.

By the time he’s exhausted and barely swinging his arms, nobody is making much noise at all. The silence is interrupted only by his panting breaths and her stifled groans. Finally, a voice booms from somewhere overhead.

“A draw means you both lose.”

She doesn’t want to fight, but she cannot lose. Seeing only one solution, she musters the rest of her strength. When he stumbles over for one last attack, she lets him land a punch or two in the interest of getting her hands on his head, one cupping his chin and the other buried in the hair around back. His eyes go wide the moment she lets her final move loose.

His lifeless body slumps to the ground, and the lights go out.


	10. Rraozh

Kara limps into the main area, barely noticing the rough handling of the guards. She’s too exhausted to struggle, so she doesn’t know if this is how they normally handle her, and she’s usually more robust--or if her performance in the ring has invited poor treatment. She’s also too tired to care.

There’s also no energy left to tend to her usual post-fight routine. Ignoring the bathroom, she falls to the ground in the bedroom and curls in on herself. She hears Cat’s voice ringing around her, although she sounds distant or underwater. She closes her eyes and loses consciousness.

-x-

Cat paces the room, to and fro, until her legs ache from exertion. Part of her wants desperately to wake Kara up and demand answers, but the other part can’t shake the sight of Kara’s zombie-like entrance to their quarters--the stiff-legged stagger, the lifeless gaze, and the drooping lips. She’s afraid of what all of the marks on Kara’s body mean. Was she beaten so badly because she lost? Were guards coming back to take her to slaughter

Being stuck in the room while Kara fought had been one of the hardest experiences of her life, and she’d given birth to Adam without the use of an epidural or anesthetic. The agony of those twelve hours of labor were more viscerally devastating than the two hours of waiting for news, but her nerves are more of a wreck as she worries both for Kara’s safety and her own.

She takes to sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the slow rise and fall of Kara’s chest. Sometimes, Kara appears to stop breathing, and she all but has a heart attack. Thankfully, those disturbances don’t last long, and Kara tends to resume breathing normally. Cat stays awake through the next day and into the afternoon, until her patience gives way. She crawls to Kara’s side, drags the slumbering woman’s head onto her lap, and threads her fingers through Kara’s hair.

“Come back to me, Kara. You have to come back.”

Kara snuggles closer but doesn’t wake.

-x-

Late into the next afternoon, Kara struggles back to consciousness. She rasps a few words that Cat doesn’t understand and licks her lips. Cat brings her a dripper, which she downs quickly. Sleep consumes her again, but Cat worries less. Kara is recovering, albeit slowly. She’s nearby at all times, so when Kara comes to more fully, she’s right there waiting.

“Kara,” she whispers, voice hoarse from disuse. “You scared me. You’re not allowed to scare me.”

Kara blinks slowly and doesn’t speak. She touches her throat with trembling fingers and rubs the skin there over and over again, in what appears to be newly developed nervous twitch. Cat touches her wrist to stop her from worrying her skin into a wound and draws Kara’s limp hand to her lips. She kisses the bruised knuckles gently until Kara looks straight at her.

“What happened?”

" _I win._ "

Cat’s anxiety releases in the form of a few fickle tears that she quickly scrubs from her cheeks. “Thank you.”

She strains to help Kara upright--for someone so lean looking, Kara weighs much more than she expects. Wrapping Kara’s arm around her shoulder, she acts as a human crutch. It takes ten minutes to get Kara to the steamer, and then Cat is faced with a challenge that hadn’t occurred to her before: she needs to remove Kara’s clothing. She can’t just shove Kara into the steamer for a cleansing when most of her body is still covered, after all.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Cat starts by carefully taking the edges of Kara’s shirt and pulling up. When Kara can’t quite raise her arms, Cat pulls the back of the shirt forward so she can ease Kara’s head through first and then off her arms. As she does so, she reminds herself that she’s seen Kara fully nude before, both in reality and in a few dreams since then. Based on their encounters, she assumes Kara’s people have little concern for the physical form and that nudity is normal. Or, she supposes, Kara simply stopped caring somewhere in the last ten years. Either way, there is absolutely nothing weird at all about her tenderly stripping Kara’s clothes away and letting her eyes rove around at will. Fear and anger builds in her chest at the bruises that litter Kara’s otherwise pale skin.

Kara summons the strength on her own to stand in the steamer with her arms up as far as she can hold them. Thankfully, the steamer is quick, and Kara can collapse into Cat’s arms once more. Knowing that Kara’s energy is sapped, Cat all but drags her champion but to the bedroom. She can’t get Kara onto the bed by herself, so she eases Kara to the ground, yanks the mattress to the floor, and pulls Kara on. With Kara half-draped over her body, Cat exhales. She’s not as physically devastated as Kara, but her muscles scream.

-x-

Cat wakes to the sound of their door opening, something scraping across the ground, and the door closing once more. She scoots out from under Kara, who somehow crawled further atop her while asleep. In the doorway, she glances back to make sure Kara is still resting before heading to the small crate on the floor. Fresh food, she notes, with a few drippers.

Despite Kara rejecting the offer, it seems their captors aren’t going to punish her by withholding sustenance. Cat breathes out a sigh of relief and transports the goods to the crate by Kara’s bed. While she sorts everything out, she hears Kara stirring and pauses to turn around. Kara sits up on an elbow and wipes her eyes with her hand. Her hair is mussed, and the blanket slips down her chest to rest around her hips. The tousled look is addictingly adorable, Cat realizes with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She sees the heavy bruising is still there, and the whispers of attraction mute. Kara went through an obviously tough fight and won, just for her. Guilt gnaws at her, as she knows Kara threw away her shot at freedom; optimism, however, pushes her to stay strong because she will find a way for them to escape.

She scoots to Kara’s side and offers a hand if Kara needs any help. “Do you feel any better?”

Kara shakes her head. " _My arm is bad._ "

“Injured?”

" _No._ ” Kara’s brow furrows. She then lifts her arm and feigns flexing. “ _No this._ ”

“Strength.”

“ _My arm is no strength. My leg is no strength._ ” Kara gnaws on her lower lip. “ _Before, I have always strength._ ”

“You’re weak right now,” Cat offers. “For most of us, that’s perfectly normal after a stressful situation. You’ll recover.”

Kara stares at her hands but doesn’t respond further.

-x-

Kara spends the next day sitting on the mattress while Cat talks about Earth. There had been many attempts to get Kara to speak, but Kara doesn’t know what to say. Her body feels broken, and she deserves every moment of this agony. She killed him. She sees his body at her feet, and she hears the sickening crunch of his neck snapping. He holds his nose, blood gushing between his fingers. He’s at her feet. His eyes are open and still. 

“Kara?” Cat replaces him at her feet. She gazes up, and Kara can’t look away. “I understand this is hard for you, and I want to help you. What do you need?”

Kara considers asking for physical companionship, just to feel less alone, but she pushes the thought away. Other fighters do that to their companions, but consent is a tricky issue with a power imbalance such as this. She’d never be sure if Cat would touch her out of want or repayment, and she never wants the latter.

“ _Talk more,_ ” she replies, mustering a half-hearted grimace of a smile.

“Would you like to hear about Adam?”

This is an odd request. Kara tilts her head and wonders if how a person is pregnant is common conversation on Earth. Still, it’s better than silence. “ _Yes._ ”

“He’ll be six this year. He looks a bit more like his father than me, but he has my eyes.”

Adam is not pregnancy, Kara realizes. She works from the context clues but doesn’t have the requisite vocabulary to ask her question. She tries, “ _Who?_ ”

“Who is his father?”

“ _No._ ”

“Who is Adam?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“My son,” Cat clarifies. “My child. I am his mother, his parent.”

“ _Your son._ ” Kara adds this fact to her collection of knowledge about Cat. This small tidbit eases her heart ever so slightly. She made the right choice in winning the fight, even if she shouldn’t have killed him. Cat is a mother, and she needs to go home to her son. No child should feel her pain, and she’ll do everything in her power to see them reunited.


	11. Byth

Cat lets Kara fall back asleep before moving to the screen. She’s spent her time tinkering with it while Kara was away--from the more mysterious disappearances to her fight--and she’s all but figured out the programming language. That’s one thing about technology that fascinates her--there’s a logic behind all of them, linear and easy. She doesn’t always recognize the symbols, but she understands their functions. At least, she does after a few hours of testing parameters.

There’s not much she can do from this access point, given that her ‘keyboard’ is a framework of wires. Given enough time, she should be able to send out a distress call. She doesn’t let the reality of the situation discourage her, although she acknowledges that it should. According to some of the files she’d found unsecured, the satellite is in orbit around Uranus, which is a few too many billions of miles from Earth to hope for a quick transmission or any sort of rescue within the next nine years. They need help immediately.

Additionally, she doesn’t know the particular output power or frequency of the station, nor who would receive what she sends. She might send a cry for help, only to have some ally of the fighting league intercept it. Still, she needs to try. Kara fights so hard for them both to survive, as her myriad injuries prove, and she’s going to start pulling her own weight. She’s no damsel in distress, awaiting a knight in shining armor to solve her problems. Glancing fondly back at Kara, she realizes she’s got an alien in tattered clothing, which is much better.

Cat makes a few adjustments and does a rough approximation of the Morse code for SOS and sends the staccato beats out into space. Reaffixing the screen to the wall, she sends a prayer out as well and feels foolish for doing so. Her faith in a higher power has waned in her adult years, as her mother is no longer around to drag her to church once a week--and twice a week on holidays. After a childhood full of subtle digs and public embarrassment, she’s certain the only person with almighty power over her is Mother. Still, if there were ever a time for prayer in her life, she supposes this is it.

Settling back next to Kara, she cards her fingers through the gently curling locks and lets her mind wander. She focuses on the last time she’d seen Adam, just for a weekend trip to the zoo. He’s still young enough to hold her hand in public, and she’d gotten such simple pleasure out of seeing his wide-eyed awe when he saw a real life gorilla right in front of him. Despite her constant vigilance and SPF 30 sun screen, his cheeks and nose were as rosy as the behind of the baboon that had made him giggle. Scott had taken her to task, right in front of Adam, and she’d only barely concealed her own outrage. Unlike Scott, she’d never let a child see her yelling and waving her arms about. She has enough memories of her mother’s rage, as well as the following anxiety that such fury would be directed at her.

She knows Kara is no stranger to violence and wonders how deep that damage truly is. A decade of life or death fights would be enough to psychologically damage anyone, even one as cheerful and kind as Kara. There’s definitely a submission to authority that may not have been there before, although her life seems more important to Kara than kowtowing to those in charge. Still, she remembers Kara’s posture whenever guards enter their quarters. Some habits must be hard to break.

Kara’s nose nuzzles against her midriff, and she pauses her combing to brush hair from Kara’s face. The small gesture rouses Kara, and they stare at one another for several silent seconds. Then, Kara skitters away, cheeks rosy. Cat knows her own hue is pinkish as well, as her heart races from the shared moment. At the very least, Cat knows Kara is feeling better, as she hasn’t seen the other woman move that fast in far too long.

“Good morning.”

“ _I food?_ ”

“Food isn’t a verb, dear.” Her eyes widen. “But I assumed you meant food, when we discussed food before.”

Kara tilts her head. “ _What_?”

“I should have taught you eat. Eat is the verb. You eat food.”

“ _I eat food_?” Kara tries again.

“Of course. They brought some by before, so at least they aren’t starving us.”

Kara closes her eyes, and Cat wonders if there’s anything she can say. She got what she wanted, regardless of what Kara desired, so this predicament feels like her fault. She scoots closer to Kara and places a hand on her knee.

“We will get out of here.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kara replies, her voice quiet and hollow.

-x-

By afternoon, Kara is strong enough to move about on her own. She circles their quarters slowly with one hand braced against the wall. She relieves her painfully tight bladder and bowels before pulling the hatch open for fresh clothing. Sweat clings to her old garments, staining the gray yellow and letting an odor linger around her. Her body feels minutely better, in that her sore back doesn’t scream with each motion anymore. She hopes, however, that there is plenty of time before they throw her into the arena again because there’s no way she could win in this state.

She limps back to the bedroom and helps Cat move the mattress back onto the bed. Cat lays down in her arms, and a feeling of contentedness overcomes her. She splays her hand on Cat’s back, holding the woman close and feeling the steady thump of her heart. For a short time, she can close her eyes and pretend she is home on Krypton.

The daydream doesn’t last long, however, because Cat sucks in a short, unhappy gasp of air. Opening her eyes, Kara spots the source of her concern: the screen previews a deathmatch at the end of the week. It takes several moments before she registers the fighters, and then she squeezes her eyes shut once more. She’s not sure she has it in her to kill again.

-x- 

“They can’t do this,” Cat spits out, pacing the room. “You’ve barely had any time to recover.”

“ _That is why_.”

Cat grimaces as she comes to a halt. She braces her hands on her hips and stares Kara down. “Do you think you can win?”

Kara curls her hands into fists to test her strength, but her muscles feel deflated. She has seen white Martian fighters before, although never in combat with her; they are ferocious and capable of ripping lesser beings in two. A deathmatch against one can end in only one way, although she doesn’t have the heart to tell Cat. Instead, she shrugs.

“ _Yes_.”

Posture relaxing, Cat nods. “I had a feeling you could.”

“Mm.” There’s nothing else she can say without lying, so Kara redirects her attention to her body. She takes stock of every ache and pain, and notes that although she’s better, she’s a far way off her peak.

Cat takes her wrist, and she doesn’t struggle when Cat snuggles close and kisses her. If they’re both going to die by the end of the week, then there’s no point in denying either of them this form of comfort. She wraps her arms around Cat's slender body and forgets about their problems.


	12. Chahvahv

Cat doesn’t sleep as she rests against Kara, but she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet lullaby that Kara sings under her breath. She doesn’t want to pretend that Kara feels anything for her, as that would be risking too much of herself. Instead, she pretends quite easily that the cuddling and kissing is just another extension of Kara taking care of her in this awful place. Perhaps, that’s the way she’s taking care of Kara, in return. She breaths slowly and curls her fingers into Kara’s shirt, feeling the last hours of their morning slipping from her fingers.

Soon, Kara will have to go and fight the white Martian, and she’ll be left in a state of anxiety. There are only two endings to this fight; either Kara returns, or she dies. She doesn’t want to think about that, however, so she inhales Kara’s musky scent and ignores the outside world. It’s easy enough to imagine she’s at home on Earth right now, napping on the couch while Adam plays on the rug. Avoiding the truth is calming, but she’s always rathered be upset than ignorant.

“Kara?”

“ _Yes_?”

“What…” She hesitates, not sure why she’s asking the question. She can’t leave Kara hanging forever, so she finishes, “What are you thinking about? Right now?”

“ _Home_ ,” Kara replies simply.

“Krypton?”

Kara’s cheeks turn ruddy, but she doesn’t acknowledge Cat’s question. “ _What are you thinking about?_ ”

“Home, as well. My son.”

_“Adam.”_

“Yes, Adam. My bed in my condo. How I hadn’t gotten around to doing my laundry, so my sheets are still piled in the basket on top of the washer. There were leftovers in the fridge, too, and trash that needed to be taken out.”

“ _I understand._ ” Kara's hands stroke up and down her back softly. “ _I left Krypton without telling my parents that I love them. I never said good-bye to my best friend._ ”

Cat does her best not to respond too physically to the stimulus on her back. She wants Kara to touch her with more strength, to feel Kara’s sure fingers against her skin. She wants… Well, she knows exactly what she wants, but thinking the exact words seems somehow dangerous. There are only a few scant hours left. She closes her eyes.

She wants intimacy with Kara. There, she thinks, as if acknowledging her desire would do anything. Instead, the only result is a very real and very sudden ache low in her gut; she squeezes her thighs together more tightly and hopes Kara hasn’t noticed the sudden shift in her demeanor. She knows Kara has exceptional abilities, although she doesn’t know the full extent of them--so she wonders if the frantic flutter of her heart or the beginnings of arousal will tip her hand unintentionally.

Kara’s hand comes to rest on the small of her back. “ _Are you okay?_ ”

“I’m fine.”

“ _I_ …”

Cat waits for Kara to say more, but the silence extends beyond a few moments. She lifts her head to meet Kara’s gaze and finds Kara’s eyes fixed on her, pupils large and dark. Clearing her throat, she attempts to start a conversation on something entirely mundane, but Kara is clearly not listening. When Kara cups her cheek and gently draws her forward, she resists for a few seconds, fighting against what she wants so badly. This feels too much like a bad romance story, where true feelings only come out in moments of crisis. If they weren’t on the cusp of Kara’s deathmatch, she doubts either of them would act on anything.

But they are currently drowning in an uncontrollable situation. Kara seems to be throwing her a life preserver so she can keep her head above water. They don’t need to speak more, as there’s nothing left to say. Cat knows, despite Kara’s confidence, that there is a very real chance that the white Martian will win. She’s seen the stumble in Kara’s step and the slight winces of pain while exercising. Damning the consequences--as well as the trite trope--Cat leans up and kisses Kara. Kara lets her lead, never demanding more than Cat wants herself. As she nibbles on Kara’s lower lip, she wonders about the randomness of the universe. They are disparate souls, from different worlds, yet they lay there together, connecting in more ways than one as if they are one and the same. She doesn’t know if she’s experienced anything like this on Earth; certainly, none of her romantic companions evoked the same undeniable attraction.

Kara’s fingers slip under her grey shirt but hesitate. “ _Should I stop_?”

“No,” Cat whispers, not trusting her voice to remain steady at a higher volume.

“ _Okay_.” Kara kisses her again, this time allowing Cat’s tongue between her lips. After a moment, she draws back. “ _You will tell me if you want to stop._ ”

Cat slides a hand behind Kara’s head and tangles her fingers in wild, golden locks. She stares Kara down and then drags their mouths together with more of a bruising intensity. They only pop apart after a minute so that Kara can remove her blouse. Cat is proud of her body, but she’s suddenly afraid that Kara, the beautiful alien, might have different expectations of a sexual partner. Those fears are immediately dispelled as Kara drags her fingers across Cat’s collarbones.

“ _You are very beautiful. Thank you for allowing me this honor_.”

Wanting to laugh, Cat shakes her head. “You’re really corny, you know that?”

“ _Corny_?”

Not wanting to let the passion escape them, Cat ignores the inquiry and returns to her new favorite activity; the inside of Kara’s mouth is like velvet, and she can’t get enough. Kara rumbles with pleasure beneath her and very lightly palms one of her breasts. She arches forward, inviting more touching. Adam’s father had been mildly obsessed with foreplay, and she’d always just wanted to get things over with. Now, however, she could live forever in these slow, erotic moments.

Kara’s fingers take their time exploring the plush flesh of her breasts, getting a feel for every inch of pebbling skin. When she finally reaches a nipple, Cat nearly cries out. Kara rolls one between her fingertips and tugs ever so slightly. Her nipple hardens under the ministrations, and soon, Cat is all but weeping from frustration. She bites Kara’s lower lip, hard. Kara is weak enough to feel the pressure but not so much as to feel real pain.

“You’re teasing me.”

Kara grins and shifts her hands to Cat’s hips. Cat nods her assent, and Kara rolls the formless trousers down her thighs. Easing back, Cat finishes the job. She settles back against Kara and gasps as eager fingers find the apex of her legs.

“ _You’re like me_.”

“You mean my genitals?”

Kara doesn’t seem to understand the last word, so Cat grinds down on her hand. Then, Kara nods. “ _I know what to do_.”

Cat wonders how many others Kara has been with and is disturbed by the flare of jealousy that steals through her. She can’t be upset that Kara has sought comfort from others in the past. Was it more than comfort? She squeezes her eyes closed.

“ _Should I stop_?”

Cat doesn’t verbally answer; she mashes their mouths together again. Kara doesn’t press for consent this time, instead choosing to guide a finger along the length of Cat’s center. Embarrassment chokes Cat as she realizes just how wet she’s become--but disappears a moment later as the natural lubrication aids Kara in slipping two fingers inside. Cat clenches and moans, and the sound bounces off the metal walls around them.

Kara thrusts carefully, and Cat shifts her hips so that Kara’s fingers hit in the right spot. Kara doesn’t comment on the correction; she merely quickens her pace. Cat lets her forehead fall against Kara’s chest, unable to hold her neck up even to kiss. She stiffens and can’t hold back the tears that trickle down her cheeks as an orgasm sends tremors down her legs and all but makes stars dance in front of her eyes. Cat cries again when Kara’s arms envelope her, and she’s cradled in a warm, secure hug until her body recovers.

They remain entangled for several minutes, neither saying anything nor feeling the need to speak. Cat wipes sweat from her forehead and slows her breathing. She reaches for Kara’s clothing, intent on turning the tables, but the lights lift and the entrance to their quarters whooshes open. Kara kisses her again, and she can feel desperation in the connection. She might be projecting her own fears, of course, but the kiss feels final.

Kara wiggles out from under Cat, straightens her garments, and strides from the room with her head held high. Cat wraps the meager blanket around her shoulders and lays against Kara’s pillow. She sends out yet another prayer, even though all the others have been met with silence. If anyone is listening, she prays, then this is the only wish of hers that she absolutely needs granted. No matter what, she needs Kara to come home.


	13. Tavahv

Kara stares at her opponent across the arena, who stares back with equal uncertainty. The crowd rants rowdily around them, but Kara tunes them out in favor of watching the sleek Black woman size her up. The match hasn’t begun, and they both linger as far apart as possible. Kara nibbles on her lower lip and wonders if this woman is the Martian, or if there’s been some sort of rearrangement of her fighting schedule. She doesn’t sense any of the usual animosity radiating in her direction. In fact, the woman looks just as reluctant to fight as she does.

The calm lasts until a guard with a long pole approaches the woman and presses the tip to her skin. A shot of electricity zaps her, and she immediately loses control over her form. Kara averts her eyes, unwilling to watch the nigh-unnatural twisting and crunching as the woman shifts from humanoid to hulking. When she looks again, her opponent is standing straight once more. Pale-skinned, with pink-lined crevasses and red, unmoving eyes, the Martian looks intimidating. Kara is suddenly aware of why these beings are so feared in the ring.

She drops back into a defensive stance. She doesn’t want to fight--and likely cannot hold her own--but she still has survival instincts that urge her to keep her guard up. That way, she might live a little bit longer.

Forcing her hands down, she kneels and waits. The IFL wants this to be a spectacle. They’re making good money on having people bash each other up in obscene ways. Her resolve from fighting the Daxamite is still present in her mind: she’s not going to give them a show. She killed him to avoid breaking the rules while refusing to fight, but she’s not sure what to do in this situation--where the very goal is to kill. She doesn’t want to do that again, and there’s no way she’d be able to kill the Martian without a fight.

So, to stay true to her anger, she sits on the ground and waits for the Martian to kill her. She won’t fight back. She’ll spend her last moments in silent apology to Cat, and then, she’ll be in Rao’s arms once more.

The blare signalling the start of the fight blasts. She sucks in a deep breath and bows her head. The screams from the crowd fill her ears once more, and she can’t hear the Martian’s approach. She can, however, feel the Martian’s hands on her shoulders. Gritting her teeth, she doesn’t cry out when the Martian lifts her up, nor does she balk away from an expected blow. In death, she will be honorable.

A moment later, her mind is full of pictures. She’s on blazing red sands under a bright yellow sun. She sees green beings cowering on the ground and feels the blistering heat of undying fires. She hears broken cries and feels… She feels utterly defeated. She feels sickened. She never wanted this, any of this. She doesn’t understand why this came to pass, or why so many of her friends and family members delight in the slaughter. Her sister laughs as a blade slides inch by inch into trembling green flesh. Her father sits silently, smiling and watching, as dead bodies burn. She cannot understand, and she never will.

She wants to leave this place. She wants to run from the agony her people have caused. She does, except she’s caught quickly--not by her own people, but by a roving gang of aliens who think she’ll make an excellent fighter.

The fights are cleansing. Each blow feels like retribution for her sins, like she may someday be forgiven. She wins, when she can, and then lives with her injuries for as long as possible. And she never forgets, no matter how badly she might want, the massacre of her sister species. She deserves to die, and she will do so here, this day.

Kara draws in a ragged breath as she opens her eyes. She stares at M’gann’s expressionless face and struggles to separate her own feelings from those she’s just received. Although the crowd is likely still causing a fuss, there seems to be a bubble of silence around the two of them. Kara wishes she could communicate the same way, explain that she is ready for death as well.

A small, sad smile tugs on her lips as she realizes this will be the most boring death match ever scheduled on the satellite, as two beings who no longer want to fight are pitted against each other--both willing to die so the other can live. Kara extends her arm, and M’gann clasps it tight. Even when debris cascades from the stands, Kara refuses to move. M’gann seems just as intent on rejecting this battle.

They’ll both be killed for this, Kara knows. She thinks of Cat and wishes something else could be done. Yet, even if she kills M’gann, this cycle of fighting and fretting will never end. The IFL will never release either of them, so Cat will someday die when Kara slips. Accepting their deaths with grace in this complete rejection of the League will at least mean something. She sits on the ground, and M’gann sits opposite.

Guards run up with their electrified poles once more, but neither of them cries out or moves throughout the process. The crowd’s noise peaks a moment after the lights go out.

-x-

Cat uses the steamer and dresses in fresh, drab clothing. She neatens the food box, makes the bed, and uses her sleeve to wipe bits of dust from the screen. These tasks should have taken longer to complete, she thinks, instead of the horribly short few minutes that then leaves her waiting interminably for the result of this death match. She sits on the bed for a few moments and then takes to walking slow laps around their rooms.

There’s a good deal she ought to have told Kara before. She should have mentioned her feelings, or at least expressed her gratitude. After several trips to the common gym area, she’s come to understand that Kara is an oddity among fighters. She’s seen starving companions and beaten companions. She’s seen companions wince into kisses and flinch away from a stray gesture. Her home with Kara, as that’s what these rooms have become, is at least safe from domestic abuse. She doesn’t have to worry about Kara’s temperament while she’s worrying about the guards.

She wants to tell Kara about her childhood, about her son, about her dreams. She wants to talk about her life, and to have Kara share in return. She wants so much but knows she’ll get very little. Kara’s term on this satellite seems to have an expiration date, and since they rejected the offer of freedom, that date will also be an execution. Cat slams her hand against the screen, shattering the front and revealing the wiring behind. Her stupid message has likely failed, and she’s just as doomed as Kara is.

The lights go out, and she drops to her knees. The end is coming, no matter how much she wants to live. But minutes pass in relative silence, and she wonders if this actually has nothing to do with Kara’s fight. She picks herself up and presses her ear to the front entrance. There’s some shouting in the distance and the quick clip of booted feet on the metal floor. Nobody bursts in on her, however, and she decides there’s no use in wondering what’s going on. She’ll probably never find out, anyway, and she’s wasting energy on anxiety.

As she turns away, she suddenly pauses. Her brow furrows. It almost sounded like… She shakes her head. Desperation is interfering with her perception of reality. Except, she hears it again, this time a little closer.

The third time, she can’t deny it any longer. Loud, and practically right next to her, she hears a deep, masculine voice calling, “Ms. Grant?”


	14. Zero

Jeremiah isn’t having a good day. His heavily pregnant wife had refused to start her maternity leave, despite the baby’s rapidly nearing due date, which resulted in a morning full of argument. They both tended to get defensive, and he swears he never means to make her feel useless, just like she never tries to make him feel controlling. But the sore feelings are there--have been there--since midway through the pregnancy, when the doctor first started advising Eliza to take it easy. When the doctor’s advice had little effect, he’d taken it on himself to enforce some relaxation. Unfortunately, his concern for her health had been interpreted as Father Knows Best Patriarchal Bullshit.

He knows she’s more than capable of tending to her own needs and knowing her own limitations, but he loves her, and he loves their unborn kid, and he just wants all three of them to be happy and healthy. Which is why he doesn’t press her as he leaves, instead settling for giving her a kiss and an apology. They’ll talk about it more later, but the event unfortunately leads him to the first major mistake of his day: he doesn’t check his e-mail before he leaves the house. He arrives at the laboratory and finds two large, black-suited men waiting impassively for him.

He resists going with them, at first, especially when they won’t release the name of their government agency--or much else beyond their last names preceded by the word ‘Agent.’ He doesn’t know what Agents Roble and Youngberg want with him, but he also sees the firearms holstered on their belts. They let him tell a secretary to clear his schedule and then cart him away in a black SUV with tinted windows and uncomfortably clean black leather interior.

Once they roll away from the curb, Youngberg twists around to look at him. “Your work is of great interest to us, Dr. Danvers.”

He thinks quickly, trying to remember the last article he published. He doesn’t know why any government agency, shadowy or otherwise, would care about the properties of a very specific element under very specific conditions. In fact, his loyal reader base is only a handful of people in his specialized field, all of whom he’s already spoken to regarding the piece. None of them mentioned government contacts or contracts.

“Did you have some questions?” He clears his throat and tries to look more confident than he is.

“We have an assignment,” Roble corrects.

He asks for clarification, but neither agent has anything else to say to him. He rests his head back and counts his breaths to keep them even. He reaches four hundred and three breaths by the time the vehicle pulls into a covered lot and halts. His escorts take him through the garage, up an elevator, and down a hall. At the end, he finds himself in front of a glass-paned door, with Gen. L. Lane embossed at eye level. He opens the door and steps inside.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Danvers, thank you for coming.”

Jeremiah laughs but sobers quickly. “I didn’t think I had much of a choice.”

He enters the main chamber and sees the general perched behind a massive mahogany desk. The wall behind his head is decorated with awards, certificates, and medals, adding a certain pomp and circumstance to the room. When Lane gestures to a chair, Jeremiah sits. That the chair is supremely comfortable does little to ease his nerves.

“I’m not going to waste time. I need your help.”

“General Lane,” he starts, shaking his head.

“Call me Louis.”

“Louis, I don’t know what you think I am--or what you think I do--”

“You’ve been spending time with Clark Kent, haven’t you?”

Jeremiah’s throat tightens, and he suddenly realizes what this is about. “He’s just a boy. You leave him alone--”

“We have been and will continue to do so.”

“Oh.”

“Anything else?” There’s a pregnant pause while Jeremiah does his best to not look away from Louis’s pointed stare. “Good. Then we can move forward. Dr. Danvers, we’re aware of your work with the Kent boy and your expertise with alien physiology. We have a delicate matter that requires immediate attention but also delicacy and secrecy.”

Intrigued, Jeremiah leans forward. “What sort of matter?”

“Approximately five weeks ago, Catherine Grant was kidnapped from her National City apartment. Local police were unable to determine a point of entry, despite signs of a struggle, and no ransom demands ever came. Her disappearance was investigated for a short while but then set aside when no new facts came to light.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We keep our eyes out for strange cases, and this one caught our attention. We performed our own exploration of her apartment and discovered a residual energy reading that the police wouldn’t have known to look for.”

“It had an alien signature.”

“Yes.” Louis settles back in his chair, and Jeremiah feels a little more comfortable.

“Do you need me to identify it? Track it--”

“No, none of that. We’ve done the footwork on all that. The energy signature belongs to a species from another solar system. We tracked this particular signature to a satellite around Uranus. Sycorax.”

“The moon?”

“And much more, actually. We successfully extracted Grant and terminated the trade on Sycorax. Several assets have been extracted as well. One particular asset needs special attention. Your attention.”

“I still don’t understand.” Jeremiah runs a hand through his hair. “An asset? Did you bring an alien being back to Earth?”

“Many of the beings that left the satellite were given the means to return home. Several had no home to return to or no desire to go back.”

“And this particular asset?”

Louis slides a paper across the desk, and Jeremiah scans the contract terms quickly. There’s a very strict non-disclosure agreement and a non-competition clause that seems superfluous, but there’s nothing that sets off alarm bells. They know about Clark, he reasons, and they haven’t done anything to hurt him. He’s still not sure if he trusts them, but he’s burning with curiosity about this mysterious asset. He signs.

Louis doesn’t explain further; instead, he leads Jeremiah down a corridor to what looks to be a medical facility. The harsh lights bounce off the pristine whiteness of the walls and floors, and the scent of antiseptic burns his nose. They pass several staff members who barely make eye contact before entering a small room that has no lights on whatsoever.

He blinks, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the stark difference. Finally, when he can make out more than the outline of nose, he spots a figure huddled against the far wall. Not a figure, he realizes. A person. A girl in posture, but a woman in stature. He moves closer and crouches by her side. When he extends his hand to her, she hesitates. Then, she places her hand in his with utter care and delicacy. Despite the tenuous nature of their connection, he understands that this is no mere woman before him.

She stands and stares him dead in the eye, uncertain but determined. He releases his grip and offers her a smile.

“I’m Jeremiah.”

Wincing away, she covers her ears. He whispers his name next, and her expression eases. She tells him her name and asks a question in oddly accented English.

“Where is Cat?”


	15. One

Cat hates this. She hates being in her own home and all but crawling out of her skin. This is no longer the safe haven, where she can sit in her pajamas with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. She can’t sleep with the lights off and the door open. She can’t hear a knock on her door without flinching, and she hasn’t yet left her home. She barely looks out the window.

For all she desperately wanted to this, she never thought about how she’d feel once she returned. She pictured coming home and just picking her life back up where she’d left off, but she’s terrified of going to work in the morning. The government agency responsible for her rescue cleared her physical health, but they hadn’t made her sanity a prerequisite for reintegrating into society. She partially wishes they had, so she’d have someone to blame. For now, she just gets to be angry at herself for being so weak.

The therapist who visits every day, paid for by the grace of the United States Government, tells her that she’s not at fault for anything that happened. She didn’t ask to get kidnapped, after all, and sometimes bad things just happen. Her reaction is totally normal, of course, but she needs to learn to be easier on herself. She’s not willing to be vulnerable in front of some hack who uses meaningless platitudes to placate her, so she doesn’t say anything of use to the woman. Her fears are hers to deal with, and minding them at least stops her thoughts from straying to Kara too often.

When the doors to their quarters had opened, a portly man in army fatigues stepped inside. He repeated her name, and she’d gone with him. She wanted to know what happened to Kara, but she needed to get home. Once she was off this satellite, she would do whatever it took to find and release Kara as well. The man led her to a shuttle of some sort, far more advanced than any Earth-made craft she’d ever seen, and in a week, she was back on Earth, back in her home. Except it doesn’t feel much like home anymore.

She doesn’t miss the small quarters with the three rooms, lack of entertainment, and barren surfaces, but she does miss her constant companion. Kara is on Earth, as far as she knows. She’d briefly spotted the other woman during her debriefing. They were parted by two glass walls and dozens of armed soldiers, but they’d made eye contact, and her heart clenched.

She sits on the couch with her feet folded up under her thighs. Her laptop is askance beside her, and half a dozen e-mails await her--her mother wants to see her, Lois is dying for the details, and her assistant isn’t sure if she still has a job. The rest are curious parties seeking blood to chum the waters; nothing sells papers better than a story like this. She’s spent her life chasing stories and living by the idea that the public deserves the truth--but she’s no longer certain they’re entitled to every truth.

Leaving the e-mails for later, Cat watches the television. Her safe return runs as a ticker at the bottom: “Catherine Grant returns from alien fight club”. She supposes the statement is accurate enough, but how can her experience be summed up so neatly in one sentence? Thankfully, her phone rings before she can chase that particular question down the rabbit hole. The number is private, so she lets it go to voicemail and then checks immediately after.

“Cat…? They said I can’t see you, but I can call you if I want. I’m assuming you even want to hear from me. Maybe you want to forget me along with the rest of the last month. I wouldn’t blame you. I can’t give this phone number out, but I’ll call again later. Just… just answer my call and then terminate it, if you don’t want to hear from me again. I’ll understand.”

Cat cradles the phone to her ear and replays the message. She’s not at all surprised that Kara has picked up human technology with the same speed as her language acquisition, and she finds Kara’s lack of relevant vocabulary charming. ‘Hanging up’ is so archaic, as there aren’t many phones left with cradles. But here on Earth, she could show Kara a picture of an older phone to help explain. She has so many more tools at her fingertips…

It’s a little sad to think that she still has anything to offer Kara. The government will likely attend to her education and socialization, and maybe Kara is right. Maybe she should leave everything back on the satellite, the good and the bad. That may make moving on a bit easier. Yet, when Kara calls three hours later, she picks up before the first ring can finish.

“Kara?”

“Cat?”

Silence looms somehow loudly between them. Cat wonders if this is a mistake, if all they really have in common is that one month of misery. She has no words to properly express everything she’s dealing with, from gratitude to frustration. She wants to mention how scared she is to leave the house and how she hasn’t seen Adam at all. She wants to talk about how much she loves being able to see the weather and choose her clothing. But she doesn’t. She swallows hard and clears her throat.

“Are they treating you alright?”

“Yes,” Kara whispers.

There’s something small and dejected in Kara’s tone, and Cat feels like she misspoke. “What are you allowed to tell me?”

“I am calling to make sure you are safe.”

Cat leans back on the couch and runs a hand through her hair. “My apartment is almost exactly how I left it, except for some dirty shoe prints on the carpet.”

Kara waits a moment longer, but Cat can’t burden her with more problems than she’s dealing with. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Mm.”

“I'll go now.”

Cat nibbles on her lower lip and debates asking Kara to stay. In the end, Kara makes the decision for her, and she listens to empty noise for a few minutes longer. She wonders if Kara will call back again, or if that was their final contact. She didn’t even get to say goodbye.

-x-

“Am I interrupting?”

Cat stares at the half-written article in front of her. She’s luckily able to work primarily from home, although she’ll someday need to find her way back to the bullpen or risk losing her job. She’ll also lose her job if she doesn’t get this fluff piece whipped into something presentable. She sets it aside.

“No, I was just finishing up.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to call again.”

Kara’s accent is lessening, Cat notes with a certain tinge of sadness. They’ve been on Earth for two weeks, and Kara is adjusting just fine without her. “I did. Well, I do. You’re welcome to call whenever you want.”

“I’m scared.”

“You’ll be fine,” Cat replies, despite being far from sure. She’s scared, too, but she won’t allow herself to say so. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“I’m safe.”

“I suppose I have to accept that answer for now.”

“Thank you.”

Summoning a bit of courage, Cat asks the question she hates most. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The simple question seemingly opens a floodgate; Kara sniffles as she stutters through how foreign everything is. She doesn’t know which foods go together and which don’t--although some do sometimes but not always. She doesn’t know which clothing to choose for herself or how to use the shower or the toilet without assistance. Her mortification is only intensified by the practiced disinterest of the men and women in charge of her care. The rooms are so big and her bedroom immense. Her bed is too soft, and they don’t like it when she’s naked. She knows what they say about her, when they think she isn’t listening. 

And worst of all, they won’t let her see Cat.

“We can talk, at the very least.”

“It isn’t the same.”

That’s very true. Cat misses the warmth and strength of Kara’s arms around her shoulders as they lay in bed and talked quietly. Her imagination is only so good, and she can’t quite remember how Kara smells. She braces her thumb and middle finger against the bridge of her nose, but the gesture doesn’t help her concentrate like it normally does.

“Do you know how long they’re keeping you isolated?”

“I’m not isolated.”

Cat’s brow furrows. “Then why can’t you see me?”

“They don’t think I’m ready to visit the city.”

“Can you have visitors?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you ask?”

“I will. Would… Would you come?”

The front door looms large, and she panics at the very thought of leaving. She grits her teeth and says, “Of course.”


	16. Two

Kara turns a page and looks at an illustrated picture of a puppy in a snowbank. The reading level is much too low, but she enjoys the simplicity of the stories; plus, she’s gained a good deal from being able to see examples of the complex syntax Cat worked so hard to teach her. The puppy is lost, and she pushes a finger against his nose. He’d been given to a boy for Christmas, and then the family had gone away for the weekend. The neighbor came over to let him out, and he’d run into the white-covered landscape to find his boy--but he didn’t find the boy at all, just loneliness and the cold.

This is why the Danvers don’t want her to go looking for Cat. She recognizes that easily enough. But the puppy in the story is eventually found and reunited with his boy, so there is a chance someone might take her to Cat if she asks nicely enough. She’s certain of her English now, so she can get by without seeming strange or foreign. She also grasps the concept of American style humor, and she’s no longer intimidated when someone aggressively scolds her. Well, the Danvers don’t do that, usually, so she hasn’t had any bad episodes since leaving the military base.

They hadn’t kept her there long once they realized how loudly she experienced the shooting range, despite being a good mile away, and her new environment is bitter sweet. On the base, she had her schedule dictated, which was comfortable and controlled. After living in three rooms for a decade, only being let out by armed guards, she felt at home in the regulated barracks. At the Danvers, she has her own room in a large house, and nobody tells her when to wake up or what to she can eat or where she needs to be. The absolute freedom is overwhelming.

Except it’s not entirely absolute. There are ground rules in place, like she isn’t to fly outside, and she mustn’t light things on fire with her eyes or freeze them with her breath. She’s been taught extensively what normal humans are capable of doing, and she cannot under any circumstances reveal herself as alien. People on this planet aren’t aware of their extraterrestrial neighbors and likely won’t take nicely to suddenly becoming aware that the nice girl next door could snap them in half.

She’d never do that, she argued, but Mr. Danvers had just looked at Mrs. Danvers silently, and Kara understood that these people don’t trust her. They had, however, given her a cellular phone and access to Cat’s phone number, as a means of placating her incessant asking about the blonde woman. She’s far away, and she’s busy, and shouldn’t she be practicing her meditation?

All of the other rules mean nothing to her--but being unable to see Cat is crushing. On top of that weight, she also bears the brunt of her own anxiety. Mrs. Danvers tells her that she’ll get used to life on Earth and all the opportunities now available to her and is so painfully nice about everything, that Kara just smiles and agrees. Yes, things here are much nicer, and she’s very grateful to be there.

She wonders as she selects another book if she shouldn’t have just stayed on the satellite. All those years of dreaming of freedom, and she’s not able to function on her own. There are mornings when she stands in the kitchen and just stares at all the options. There are four different kinds of dried grains--some are hard and placed in cold liquid, while others are supposed to soften in hot water--and bagels and fresh fruit. Sometimes, if she’s lucky, Mr. Danvers will hand her a banana and shoo her out the door without a word.

Other times, Mrs. Danvers finds her and asks what she’s looking for.

She sets the book aside and stands, stretching her arms over her head. If she focuses her hearing, she’ll be able to hear the Danvers downstairs in the kitchen making dinner. If she focuses even harder, she’ll hone in on their distinct heart beats. She’s not sure if she likes this new enhancement very much. Maybe with practice, though, she’ll be able to listen to Cat, even this far away. The thought warms her considerably, and she decides that now is the time to ask permission for Cat to come visit.

She steps into the kitchen, light on her feet. Clearing her throat to alert them to her presence, she offers a hesitant smile. “Good afternoon.”

Eliza smiles right back, wiping her moist hands on her jeans before reaching to grab a plate and glass. “Which book did you read?”

“The Lost Puppy.”

Jeremiah watches her closely, and she fidgets under the expectation in his gaze. “Again? Aren’t you tired of that one?”

There are plenty of books in the nursery, ranging from wordless picture books to longer story books, and she’s read them all. She doesn’t tell them this, of course, because she gets the feeling that people on Earth don’t absorb literature as fast as she does. They already treat her like she’s something very different, and she doesn’t want to be pushed farther away.

“I like it,” she replies simply. “The pictures are very nice.”

“We can always go and get you books more to your liking. Longer books.”

She shakes her head. They’ve already spent too much money on her. She really only has one wish, and it shouldn’t cost them anything. “I did have a request, though.”

“Oh?”

“Can Cat come see me?”

Jeremiah checks briefly with Eliza, and Kara is amazed that they can converse non-verbally, despite not being a telepathic species. When Eliza tilts her head slightly, Jeremiah looks back at Kara and says, “That should be fine.”

“I’ll invite her to dine with us tomorrow?”

“It’s a long drive from National City. You can invite her to come on Friday afternoon, and she can stay the night if she likes.”

She sorts through the Earth calendar. This day is Wednesday, which is followed by Thursday and then Friday. This is an acceptable amount of time, and the offer of more time with Cat than expected bolsters her spirits immediately. Her body relaxes and she retreats to her bedroom to extend the invitation. When Cat agrees, she flops back and tugs her pillow to her chest. Careful not to tear the delicate fabric, she hugs it close.

On Thursday, she touches the home computer for the first time. Jeremiah has offered multiple times to teach her how to use the machine, but she has rejected him each time. There is too much information on the Internet, at least per Jeremiah’s description, and she doesn’t yet have a means of separating truth from deception. She would hate to learn everything she could, only to find out that most of her information is inaccurate. Now, however, she wants to learn about National City. Navigating the machine is troublesome only at first, but her intuition guides her successfully. She spends the day reading websites dedicated to local sights and good restaurants. She reads the backlog of the National City Tribune, delighting when she spots Cat’s name on several articles.

As she tucks herself into bed that night, she calms her excited heart and sleeps well for the first time in weeks. She wakes in the morning, a bundle of nervous energy. While both the Danvers are busy, she sneaks outside and sprints around the yard to burn off as much as she can without drawing attention to her powers and then returns inside to use the shower. The hard spray of water on her body has become a physical comfort, more so than the steamer ever used to be, although all the different scents from the various hygiene products confuses her nose and tends to make her sneeze.

Cat is scheduled to arrive around noon, so at eleven-thirty, Kara heads to the front door. She sits in the hallway, closes her eyes, and channels her hearing. She doesn’t know if Cat will talk at all during the drive, but there’s a chance, and she’ll know that Cat is coming. Cars drive along the road, and someone on a bicycle veers by. Dogs bark in the distance, but there’s no sound of Cat. Kara waits until twelve-forty-five until she gives up and returns to her bedroom.

There are no messages on her phone.

She presses the power button to turn it off and then falls into bed. She had told Cat that she would cut off contact if that was what Cat desired, and she is going to stick to her word. Cat not showing up is a clear signal that Cat needs space and time, and Kara should let the relationship go. She tugs a pillow over her face and pushes down so the fabric of the pillowcase can soak up her tears.


	17. Three

After a week, Kara decides she can’t keep moping. When Eliza offers to drive her into town, Kara grins widely and agrees. This is her first trip outside of the Danvers property since her arrival, and a change in scenery will do her good. On the satellite, she had only the company provided to her, but here there’s a wide world of beings who could be befriended. She sits in the car, in what Eliza refers to as the passenger seat--although all seats in the car could be considered passenger seats. Do the people who sit in the back not count as passengers?

The conundrum doesn’t seem to bother the Earthlings, however, so she doesn’t want to risk looking silly by asking. She keeps many of her questions to herself and explores what she can when she’s alone. Telling someone to “Cut it out” doesn’t involve any sharp objects, and the kids outside are playing a game when they yell “You’re it!” She’s also had to do a bit of research on homophones to keep from getting too confused; Eliza had tittered when she’d been told to shoo, and she couldn’t figure out how a shoe fit into their conversation.

Cat had never laughed at her.

She watches the world flow by her window and tries to forget about Cat. She’s only hurting herself by remembering Cat’s quick wit, sly smile, and strong hands. Besides, she still wants to protect Cat, even though the environment has changed; if Cat needs to be distant from her, then she will respect that. To keep herself distracted, she thinks about the various foods she’s tried so far until Eliza pulls into a parking spot and turns to face her.

“I’m running into the grocery store. Would you like to come with, or would you like to walk around out here?”

Kara hadn’t expected a choice in the matter, but she’s glad she’s earned some trust outside. “I’d prefer to walk around.”

“I thought you might. Remember--”

“No powers,” she responds immediately.

Eliza grips her forearm and squeezes gently; Kara almost doesn’t feel the contact. They slip out of the car, and Eliza heads into the Grocer’s Mart. Kara watches a moment longer, eyeing the pregnancy ballooning out from the older woman’s midsection. The child will be named Alex, or so the lettering in the nursery states--Alexander if the baby is male and Alexandra for a female. Or just Alex, Jeremiah tends to joke, because babies don’t know what gender they are.

A few faint tendrils of memories contain a small baby with tufts of black hair and wide, blue eyes. He’d been born sometime before the end of Krypton, and she never knew him all that well. But he was family, and she does remember holding him in her arms on one occasion. Her parents had told her something, although she doesn’t know what, and she can still recall the soft puff of her father’s breath on her ear. She can’t remember his face.

Stopping in front of bakery, she looks through the window at the displayed goods. She’s already tried donuts, which are delicious, and scones, which are dry. But there’s a small circular food slathered with what looks like thin chocolate and puffy sugar. The name tag calls it “Birthday Batter Cake,” and she can only imagine what might be inside. She licks her lips as she ponders, having developed quite the sweet tooth after tasting the sugar-filled delights Earth has to offer. Her attention catches on a ‘Help Wanted’ sign taped along the edge of the window.

A job would give her something to do, and she could make some money to contribute to her care. She knows she’s not simple to house or feed, and with a baby on the way, the Danvers would probably appreciate another source of income. That she knows nothing about baking doesn’t deter her sudden desire to help. She knows enough about Earth that she feels confident when she enters the bakery and approaches the register.

Tawny, the girl behind the register, barely looks up until she clears her throat. Then, inflection barely shifting, she says, “How can I help you today, ma’am?”

“There’s a sign in the window about needing help.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I would like to help.”

The edge of Tawny’s lips twitch up. “That’s nice. I’ll get you an application.”

Kara says nothing, not wanting to reveal that she doesn’t know what an application is. She accepts the piece of paper and looks down the itemized questions with a small frown. When she doesn’t leave, Tawny hands her a pen and gestures to one of the two-seater tables lined against the wall. Kara sits down and holds the pen awkwardly. She reads and speaks English very well at this point, but she has yet to manage writing. If she had a tablet to use with her finger, she could draw the designs, just like she used to on Cat’s palm. But a pen is a foreign device in her fingers, and she turns beet red as she tries to spell her name at the top.

It doesn’t help that she knows Tawny is watching her. Eventually, she stands up and pretends that she’s forgotten her identification card--which she doesn’t have to begin with--and tells Tawny that she’ll be back soon to turn this application in. Not wanting to steal, she puts the pen on the counter before marching back onto the street. Although Eliza isn’t done shopping, Kara returns to the car to wait.

As Eliza pushes the cart toward her, Kara immediately hurries over to lift the heavier items. Eliza shouldn’t be straining herself, especially not when Kara is willing and able to do the lifting. She organizes the groceries in the trunk of the car, and when she gets into the oddly named passenger seat, she finds Eliza looking at her application.

“What’s this?”

“An application.”

Eliza looks up, an unreadable expression in her eyes. “You want to get a job?”

“Yes,” she states, doing her best to sound sure. “It will be a good way to interact with new people and expand my social skills. And I can help pay for my stay. I want to earn my keep.”

“Kara, you aren’t trapped on that satellite anymore. You don’t have to earn your right to be alive.”

“I know, but I want to help.” Kara does hear the value in Eliza’s words, but she also hears the guilt in her heart every time she takes from the Danvers without giving back. The universe runs on a system of quid pro quo, and she is no exception.

After a moment of silence, Eliza nods. “I’ll talk to Jeremiah, and we’ll see about getting your paperwork in order.”

“Um.” Kara looks at the crooked ‘K’ she’d scribbled at the top of the page and flushes. “Will you teach me how to write?”

“Of course.” Eliza smiles at her, and genuine warmth fills her chest. “I’m so glad you’re settling in, Kara. I’m sorry about--”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts, knowing exactly what this apology will entail. The less Cat is mentioned, however, the better. “We both have our own lives now.”

Eliza starts the engine and drives them home, but Kara can’t distract herself as easily this time.

-x-

She looks at the state-issued identification card and tries not to feel sad. Her name is now Kara Danvers, as her cover story is that she’s the child of Jeremiah’s sister, who sadly died a few years back. All her fake documents reflect this, and she feels like part of her identity has been erased. The great House of Zor-El is dead, its fate sealed by a few simple strokes of a keyboard. She murmurs a prayer to Rao to give peace to her house and her family and then tucks the ID into her wallet. She starts at the bakery in half an hour, and she wants to get there early.


	18. Four

Life takes on a routine, which Kara is grateful for. After a decade of having her hours fairly rote, she’s glad to have an existence with a rhythm she knows and can expect. She’s no expert with an oven, but her boss is impressed with how long she can knead dough without taking a break and how she doesn’t seem affected by the heat of the kitchen. That she accidentally broke a rolling pin is strange, but Marlene just thinks she’s clumsy and the wood of the instrument had gone bad.

As a boss, Marlene is a bit strict, but she’s never unduly unfair or rude. Kara understands that hiring someone as inexperienced as she is was not Marlene’s first choice and that the time and energy put into training her could have been spent elsewhere. With this in mind, she doesn’t complain when Marlene’s temper is short and her mistakes many. She works hard and keeps her head down, and eventually, Marlene’s sharp eye and tongue shift back to Tawny.

Tawny, in turn, gives Kara stiff glares and huffs as she passes. She doesn’t mind, although she’d prefer a cordial relationship. She does her best to smile whenever possible and lighten Tawny’s workload, but the effect seems negligible. Unless a customer is present, Tawny enjoys the silence of sitting by the register and thumbing through her mobile device. Kara assumes she’s not totally disliked, as Tawny had asked if she had a Facebook. She’d gone home that night and set one up, although she doesn’t use it much at all. She’s glad to have it, however, as Tawny sends her messages from time to time, mostly about taking over shifts--but on rare occasions, she receives a funny picture.

After a long day at work, she tends to go home, eat dinner with the Danvers, and then retreat to her room to meditate and go through her exercises. There is no longer a need to fight, but having something to cling to from her old life is somehow comforting, no matter how awful that old life was. Then, because she must be a masochist, she turns on her phone and checks for missed calls or messages.

That night, there are none, and she realizes there’s no point in avoiding her phone any longer. She does as Tawny recommended and installs the Facebook app, along with the Messenger, so that she can communicate more easily with her three friends on the platform. Eliza wants her to take pictures of the things she bakes, and Jeremiah likes sending her terrible jokes. She laughs at them, even though she doesn’t always understand what the meaning is. Her favorite is the interrupting cow knock-knock joke, which he sends fairly often.

Once it’s ready for use, she opens the app and logs in. She tells Tawny she’s got the app and includes three different emojis to clarify her emotional state and authorial intent; all she gets back is a basic thumbs-up symbol. Her eyes drift up to the search bar at the top, and her inner-masochist has her typing in a very specific search phrase. Her breath catches in her throat as she spots Cat’s photograph among a list of people who have similar names. Taking a small breath to restart her brain, she clicks the link.

There aren’t many updates on the page in the last few months. One simply states that she’s gone back to work. The most recent one, from several weeks back, lists a phone number and the words “My phone broke. Please update my contact information and send me a text, as I lost my contacts during the transition.”

Kara wipes her hands on her jeans and then copies the number down. She plugs the number into her phone, opens the texting feature, and warily types: “I’m not sure if you want to hear from me, but this is Kara. I hope you are doing well.”

Setting the phone aside, she grabs her towel and goes to the bathroom to shower and relax. She focuses on her breathing, knowing that she shouldn’t get her hopes too high. She takes her time drying off and pulling on pajamas before she allows herself a chance to look at the screen once again. There’s a simple message waiting for her: Call me.

When Cat answers, she sounds frantic. “Kara?”

“Cat?” Kara hesitates. “Do you need space? I’m sorry if I overstepped by sending you a message.”

“I don’t need space. I’ve been hoping you’d reach out. Of course, I didn’t know you had a profile, otherwise I would have attempted to contact you there.”

“It’s new.”

“I see.”

“How have you been doing?” Kara wants to be angry that Cat is acting like nothing has happened or changed, but all she needs, even now, is to support Cat in whatever way she can.

“I’ve been better,” Cat admits. “And you?”

“I have a job now.”

“What do you do?”

“I work at a bakery every other day. They sometimes let me eat the misshapen goods.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It is.”

“I--”

“What happened?”

Kara waits as patiently as possible, knowing that she’s sprung a question that took Cat by surprise--but that should have been expected. She wants to resume their habit of discussing their days, but she cannot move forward without an answer. Rao, even a bad answer would suffice, like she just didn’t feel like coming. She hears a few half-hearted sighs, as if Cat is searching for the words but lacking the vocabulary. Kara knows the feeling.

Understanding how Cat must feel, Kara says, “I was upset when you didn’t show up. I cried for a while, but I eventually realized you must have not come for some important reason. I needed to wait, and you would let me know what kept you away. But you never called or texted, and I thought I’d never hear from you again. It’s been very hard, but I’ve been trying to learn about this world on my own. But everything I do, I wonder how it might be different if you were with me.”

Her tactic of expressing her own feelings first works; Cat replies, “I was upset when I didn’t show up, too. I had everything packed and my shoes on, but… But I couldn’t leave the apartment. I was…”

“Scared,” Kara supplies.

“Yes, that.”

“We all get scared.”

“I’m not supposed to. I tried so hard to leave, but I panicked. I knew how much I needed to see you, and I got frustrated with myself. I threw my phone at the wall.”

“Your phone broke.”

“Yes. I thought my contacts would load onto the new phone, but they didn’t. I lost both your number and your address.”

“You knew I was staying with the Danvers.” Kara can’t stop the faintly accusatory tone from entering her voice.

“I remembered that eventually. But it had been so long… I thought perhaps you were better off without me interrupting your life again.”

Kara closes her eyes. “That will never be true. I want you, for as long as you want me.”

Cat inhales sharply and remains quiet another few seconds. “Kara, I don’t usually apologize. However, there is no excuse for how I behaved--”

“Cat.”

“--so I’d like to--”

“Cat,” she repeats, more firmly. “I am not upset. No apology is required. You cannot control everything, and I understand if you were overwhelmed.”

“I don’t deserve to have you forgive me this easily.”

“Stop punishing yourself.” Kara dips her head and frowns. “For the first few weeks of my freedom, I was certain I was responsible for the deaths of all my previous companions. It was eating away at me that you had gotten rescued while the others had not. Their deaths were my fault because I lost the fights.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I understand that now. Eliza has been very supportive, but she would not let me continue to think that. We both have been changed by what the IFL did to us, but we are not responsible for the repercussions of their choices. I lost those fights, but they killed my companions. You didn’t show up, but they damaged your ability to feel safe.”

“I haven’t felt safe since the last time I was with you,” Cat whispers.

“Have you left your home, yet?”

“Once or twice, when I couldn’t avoid it.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t be. It’s not enough.”

“I am anyway,” Kara counters. “Because it’s farther than you went before.”


	19. Five

Kara smiles down at her phone for the nth time that day, and she knows Tawny is staring at her curiously. She can’t help but feel more cheerful now that she has daily contact with Cat. The most recent message is a picture of Adam, his wide-spread lips revealing several missing teeth. The caption beneath regales her with their morning adventure--they’d gotten ice cream from the convenience store down the street. Kara knows better than to praise Cat for going out, but she’s so proud of the baby steps forward the other woman is making.

Adam is probably the cutest child Kara’s ever seen. Then again, she hadn’t seen many children before she came to Earth, and she realizes just how bias she is in this matter. The boy could have no face, and she’d find him darling. She flushes as Tawny jabs her side and gestures to the waiting dough. Tucking her phone away, she murmurs an apology and sets about digging her knuckles into the plush material.

“So.”

She looks sideways and finds Tawny still examining her. “Yes?

“What’s with the sudden addiction to the cell?”

“My friend Cat talks to me.”

“Friend, huh?”

Kara thinks about the one night they shared together and the painful distance ever since. She thinks friend is the most apt term. She’s come to understand romantic relationships as something mutually agreed on, and she hasn’t had a conversation with Cat about that before. Neither of them has brought up the intimacy they shared, and Kara doesn’t want to be the first.

“Yes.”

“Well, whatever she is, I’m not getting flack from Marlene if you’re just sitting around and that bread doesn’t rise.”

“I’m sorry.” Kara dips her head and sighs. “I won’t let it happen again.”

All she gets as a response is a huff. 

-x-

“How was your day?”

Cat makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a cluck. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Thank you for sharing Adam’s picture with me. He’s very cute.”

“Well, he does have some good genes.”

Kara smiles and holds the phone closer to her ear. She flops back on her bed and examines the ceiling. She inhales slowly and looks beyond, into the night sky. A sprinkling of stars dusted the darkness, and the gentle curve of the moon hangs betwixt. The constellations she’d learned as a small child are gone, but she’s naming new ones here. To the left of the moon in a jagged pattern of five stars is Tauled, a hero from a story told to children. Tauled had fought against invading forces and earned the favor of Rao, in the form of brilliant red hair. She wonders if Adam would enjoy hearing the story.

“He looked like he enjoyed his ice cream.”

“He did.”

Cat sounds tense and upset, so Kara asks, “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“If you don’t want to discuss it, that’s fine. But I’m here if you do--”

“It’s Scott. He’s petitioned the court for full custody, as I’m clearly not fit to care for him, given my recent trauma.”

“Custody?”

“With whom he lives. Full custody means he would live with Scott. Partial custody is Adam splitting his time with both of us. Obviously, that’s the option I would prefer.” Cat sighs and her voice trembles when she speaks again. “I can’t even go two blocks away from my apartment. How am I supposed to show up in court and fight back?”

“You can do it. I know you can, Cat.”

“You aren’t here. You don’t know what it’s like.”

The words are harsh, but Kara persists. “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to. You just have to do it.”

Cat snaps. “Some of us aren’t endlessly adaptable to all the horrible things life throws at us. In fact, most of us are not you, some life isn’t just sunshine and rainbows.”

Kara cringes. She’s told Cat about her upset before, how she’s still struggling to fit into this new environment. She won’t apologize for trying to stay positive however. Trying to maintain her smile is the only way she knows how to survive, otherwise guilt, anger, and frustration would have dragged her down.

“I think maybe we shouldn’t talk for a while,” Kara says quietly. “Good night, Cat.”

“Kara…”

There might be a hint of remorse in Cat’s tone, but Kara can’t be sure. She repeats, “Good night, Cat,” and then hangs up.

She doesn’t sleep much that night, and she slips out the door at three a.m. to jog along the beach. When the whim strikes her, she wades into the water and revels in the chill. By the time she returns home to get ready for work, her spirits feel renewed. She’s not surprised to find that she has no new calls or messages on her phone.

-x-

Cat stares at the screen, at the tenth message she’s typed in as many minutes. After a restless night of sleep, she realized she needs to make things right with Kara, as she can’t function with this weight lingering on her shoulders. Apologies, however, are not her forte, and she can barely bring herself to type the word ‘sorry’ without tensing. She’s rarely at fault for much of the strife in her life, but in this case… She knows she was wrong to take her frustration out on Kara.

She sighs and sets the phone aside. With the court date on the calendar, she has a definite deadline for getting comfortable outside her home. She won’t lose Adam to some ridiculous anxiety. The judge would never see her as fit and able if she shows up and flinches at loud sounds and flees immediately after. No, if she’s going to fight Scott’s petition with every ounce of willpower she can muster. If that means terrifying herself with the outside world, then she’s going to do it.

In one month’s time, she going to step into that courtroom with confidence; there are no alternatives.

-x-

“You haven’t checked your phone once today.”

Kara shrugs. “No need to.”

Tawny rolls her eyes. “Your girlfriend not talking to you?”

Correcting Tawny is a wasted effort. Kara has tried on several occasions to do so, but Tawny just laughs and continues on anyway. If Kara were the sort to anger easily, she might no longer have a job after what she might do to Tawny accidentally. She’s very much so in control of her powers in that she can somewhat turn them off. What she can’t do is use them without losing control. Jeremiah likens her to a light switch with no dimmer. With his help, she hopes she can install a dimmer switch, although the metaphor is still confusing to her.

Instead, she replies, “I am still not talking to her.”

“A grudge, Danvers? Didn’t think you had it in you.”

She doesn’t really. But she thinks that Cat will take the space and time she needs to cool down, and she feels bad about the pressure she put on Cat to succeed. People work at their own pace, she knows that--it’s just hard to keep in perspective. Cat just makes her feel like she can do everything. She doesn’t know how Cat can instill that kind of self-confidence, even from afar, but Kara loves that support. She normally never considers Cat's personal limitations because they seem nonexistent.

“We both need some space after our last conversation.” She checks the oven and deems the golden, crispy crust acceptable. Nearly forgetting to put oven mitts on, she removes the dessert and sets it out to cool. She leans in and sniffs gingerly; she’d inhaled too intensely her first time and all but sucked the cake up into her face. The scent of cinnamon and apples brings a smile to her face.

“Well, that sucks.”

“I guess.” Kara makes a note to look up the different contexts for sucks, as she’s fairly certain the silence between her and Cat does not function like a vacuum cleaner. “I just want to give her space, so she can figure out what she needs to do.”

Tawny raises her eyebrows. “I’d never give my boyfriends that sort of leeway, especially if they’re figuring out their way into other relationships.”

Kara flushes. “She’s not dating, I don’t think.” Flushing red, she adds, “Not that it’s any of my business.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

The silence expands from a few days to two and a half weeks, and Kara fights the urge to send the first message. She wasn’t the one, after all, who was mean and hurtful, so Cat should be the one to initiate a tete a tete. Still, she yearns for just one conversation; she misses the sound of Cat’s voice as well as the light clip of her laugh. Fine. She disregards her self-control and dials Cat’s number. On the third ring, Cat answers.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m busy right now.”

Kara deflates quickly and quietly. “Oh. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“We’ll talk later, hm?”

“Yeah.”

Finishing her lunch, Kara tosses her trash away and mopes back into work. Marlene shoots her a pointed look from the back room, so she straightens up and forces a smile. In the front, she rearranges their display with meticulous precision before looking up and out into the street. A few cars zoom past, much faster than they ought to, and a child runs up to press their nose to the glass. She smiles at them as their parents drag them away. The bell over the door jingles, and Kara’s attention returns to the bakery.

“What can I get…” Kara trails off, staring blankly at their newest patron.

Cat fidgets with her cell phone. “Can we talk?”

Kara is tongue-tied for several moments. “I’m sort of busy?”

“Working. Right.”

She hasn’t seen Cat be this rattled, which makes her decision for her. “Wait here, please.”

Marlene isn’t pleased that she’s calling off, but she promises to get everything done the next day, and if it takes her longer than her shift, she’ll clock out and finish up. Marlene huffs and tells her that’s not necessary; she beams and hurries out to Cat once more.

“I’m not busy anymore. Um, would you maybe want to go home with me?”

Even through her discomfort, Cat snorts. “That’s a very cheesy pick up line.”

Kara reaches toward her. “You want me to lift you?”

Cat grabs her hands and shakes her head. “No. It’s a way of saying you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a moment. “Is it working?”

The laugh that evokes warms Kara’s belly. She escorts Cat outside and takes her home.


	20. Six

Cat is mostly quiet during the short trip to the Danvers household. There’s too much she wants to say and no good place to begin. Her worries about the coming conversation compound on her anxiety about being outside of her home, and the result is her voice remaining locked in her throat, while her mind spins through everything she ought to be saying. Thankfully, Kara seems willing to let her think and only breaks the silence to point out places she’s been and things she’s learned. As they come up the driveway, Kara pauses.

“They aren’t home right now, but they might come back. We could go somewhere else, if you would be more comfortable?”

Cat gestures to the front door. “Lead the way.”

Kara nods and slips her key into the lock. On their way inside, Cat observes the house, which she supposes a realtor would call quaint or perhaps a starter home. It’s small but clearly loved, from the pictures hanging on the walls to the occasional out-of-place object--a shoe on its side apart from its pair, a purse drooping against the side of the couch, and so on. People live here, and Cat feels a bit safer inside. However, Kara leads her farther inward, to a smaller room that has much less decoration. There’s a bed but not much else.

“This is my room,” she explains. “I thought maybe we’d have more privacy in here.”

For a moment, Cat stands paralyzed in the doorway, her mind racing back to the small bedroom on the satellite. She reminds herself that she’s back on Earth several times before she notices Kara’s hand on her wrist.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m.” Cat closes her eyes and sighs. She didn’t come all this way to lie. “I’m not, no.”

Kara frowns. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--”

“You’re fine. Just… just give me a moment.”

Leaving Cat in the doorway, Kara meanders to her bed and sits on the edge. Cat watches her for a good twenty or so seconds before stepping into the room. She’s still on Earth, and beyond this room, there is a door she can open to leave here. But Midvale is so far from National City, and she’s therefore so far from her own space, where she is the metaphorical bug in its rug. Here, she feels more like a corpse rolled into a rug for disposal.

She reigns in her feelings and counts backwards from ten. On reaching one, she crosses the room and sits beside Kara, who has been patiently tracing her fingers in the bedspread without a word. Cat takes one of her hands and holds tight.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever you need.”

“I’m aware of how far you’re willing to bend over backward to accommodate my needs.” Cat wonders if this is Kara’s adverse reaction to her years of imprisonment. Kara had claimed that she no longer thinks of herself as responsible for those who died--but her actions suggest that she’s still paying her own form of penance by attempting to help everyone she comes across.

Kara looks away but doesn’t reject Cat’s comment. “You didn’t contact me.”

“You didn’t reach out to me, either.”

“I was waiting,” Kara whispers. “I didn’t want to pressure you, anymore than I already had anyway.”

“And we both know that if an apology is needed, it’s I who needs to apologize to you and not the other way around.” Cat arches an eyebrow and nearly smiles at Kara’s sudden blush. “I’m not lacking in self-awareness, Kara, even if what I find is unappealing.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“Then you didn’t think I was silent all this time because I thought I was right?”

“Well…”

“I can’t fault you for that. It’s usually a safe assumption to make.” Cat rubs her thumb slowly over the back of Kara’s hand. She’s missed this contact, even as she tries to slough off the attempts of other people trying to touch her. Adam may hug and kiss her, but all others receive an angry glare if their skin gets too close to hers. Kara, however, doesn’t make her feel like she has no control, and the physical intimacy is soothing rather than frightening.

“I try not to make assumptions.”

Cat shrugs. “Assumptions can be important. You’re always going to have an instinctive reaction as your brain uses prior experiences to understand new ones. But this isn’t what I came here to say.”

“I’m listening.”

“I acknowledge that my reaction to your support was inappropriate.” The statement is emotionless and obviously prepared in advance. Cat notes Kara’s impassive face and knows she has to do better. Her grip on Kara’s hand tightens. “I was frustrated with myself, and I took that negativity out on you because it was easier than accepting my fears and flaws.”

“It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“And?”

Cat musters her strength. “And I apologize.”

Kara brightens and scoots closer. “I forgive you. Please tell me what you’ve been doing for the last two weeks.”

For a moment, Cat doesn’t speak or move. This was supposed to be painful, and Kara was supposed to be angry with her. Forgiveness is never given that easily--but she desperately wants to believe that Kara truly does want to move past her transgression. She hopes Kara is not the sort to hold grudges stewing beneath the surface, but she has a hard time trusting anyone these days.

“I’ve been working. I was building a story around the recent spike in crime, which I believe is linked to a corporation that benefits from the labor of inmates. But my boss vetoed the story, told me I shouldn’t poke my nose into that. It’s for my own good.” Cat rolls her eyes. “People need to know the facts, which they aren’t getting. The government spin is of course that the drug-addled poor of our city have somehow invited gun violence and feed.”

“Feed? Like eating?”

“It’s a new drug. Nobody’s sure how it’s synthesized or where it comes from, but it’s all over the streets. I think Luthor Inc. is responsible, as they have the funds and resources necessary to do something like this, but Leon pulled me off the story before I could really find out.”

“That sounds very interesting but also dangerous.”

Cat tugs Kara closer. “Perhaps, but I didn’t become a journalist to write puff pieces on vapid celebrities.”

“Have you considered seeking other employment? The Danvers receive two newspapers in the morning, so there must be places you can work and tell the truth.”

“I don’t want to do anything that will make me look unstable or incompetent right now.”

Kara rests her head on Cat’s shoulder. “Adam?”

“Yes. That’s partly why I’m here. This was my test run to see if I could remain outside without losing control. So far, so good.”

“I’m glad you came.” Kara tilts her head up, her lips just under Cat’s jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

Cat feels the warm breath on her skin and automatically relaxes. She meets Kara halfway, but their kiss is short lived as she draws back to look into Kara’s eyes. She wants this intimacy; however, she hasn’t completely said her piece.

“I also came to ask if you’d come to court with me.”


	21. Seven

Kara agrees without hesitation before remembering that she’s not exactly free to roam the planet. The government agency that had rescued them had in turn restricted her movements until they deemed it appropriate. She isn’t sure if they’re protecting her from the world, or the world from her, but she hasn’t had a reason to chafe under their control as of yet. But now, Cat needs her, and she will not say no. She’ll find a way to deal with the agency when the time comes because there is nothing more important than the safety and comfort of her companion.

She freezes in place as the thought strikes her. She shouldn’t think of Cat as her companion any longer. That sort of mindset isn’t healthy nor is it conducive to her recovery, as Eliza tells her when they discuss her experience. She wonders if there’s something wrong with her because she looks back at her time on the satellite and can’t muster the anger everyone expects of her. What happened was awful, and she still feels visceral pain at the thought of the companions she’d lost--but she remembers lying in her quarters with Cat in her arms and feels warm. Thinking about their language lessons and the sharing of their cultures brings a smile to her face. Is she supposed to frown at the moments that brought her comfort?

She does, of course, frown when she divulges her feelings now. While the expression is disingenuous, she knows her listeners feel more at ease with that sort of reaction. They don’t know how to treat her when she simply accepts the lost decade of her life and tries to move forward. Jeremiah tells her not to keep the bad feelings bottled up, and the agency doctor who checks in on her every other week encourages her to let the poison out.

She doesn’t feel poisoned, though. She feels changed, for better or worse, and she wants to focus on the future rather than the past.

“When is it?”

“The end of next week. The courthouse is in National City. I can e-mail you the details.”

Kara is glad that Cat didn’t scoot too far away, as she’s in a good position to pull Cat into a tight hug when she catches the subtle waver of Cat’s voice. Cat leans into her grasp, and Kara closes her eyes to better listen to the soft puff of Cat’s breath and the steady thump of Cat’s heart. She doesn’t want to let go, given that this is the most at-home she’s felt since Krypton, but she hears the front door open and knows her hosts will want to meet Cat.

“They’re home.”

Cat averts her eyes and sets about neatening her hair, although not a strand is out of place. “Very well.”

There’s a certain coldness to Cat’s presence now, and Kara can’t fathom how to warm her up once more. She feels lonely again, and her shoulders droop. However, she doesn’t want to inflect her emotions on Cat, if this is how Cat needs to be. “Let’s go.”

Cat follows her out to the kitchen, where they find Jeremiah and Eliza setting grocery bags on the counters. Kara does the introductions without much fanfare and then sits back to watch Cat all but interrogate the couple about Kara’s well being. Nothing is apparently off the table, as Cat pesters them about Kara’s health, lifestyle, and emotional needs. The words denote caring, but Cat’s voice is hard; Kara knows then that she’s a burden for Cat to bear. That she’s on Earth is partly Cat’s influence, so Cat feels responsible for Kara’s welfare, even though she clearly doesn’t want to be.

Kara clears her throat. “Cat, don’t you need to return to National City?”

“Oh.” Cat glances at the digital clock on the stove and nods curtly. “I need to pick Adam up from his father’s, yes.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

They stand in the front hallway, and Kara twists her fingers together awkwardly. There’s nothing she can say that won’t put Cat into a worse position than before, she so mutters a quiet, “Good-bye,” without making eye contact. Cat’s fingers are nimble, and they snag her chin. Although she’s strong enough to resist the shift, she gives in immediately and meets Cat’s gaze.

“Something is wrong.”

Kara shakes her head, but then Cat kisses her. Confused, she asks, “But you went so cold?”

“I won’t apologize for that,” Cat teases quietly, her hand slipping down to Kara’s neck. “I don’t know the Danvers, and I’m not comfortable wearing my emotions on my sleeve for just anyone.”

The implication is that Kara is special, and she smiles in response. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Are all your people so open and honest with everyone?”

Kara drops her gaze once more. “No.”

Cat hems. “I really do have to pick Adam up. If I’m late, it’s just one more thing Scott will use to lambast me in front of the judge. But if you would like to talk about Krypton, I’m only a phone call away.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“That’s fine, too.” Cat reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “Still, call me whenever you need me.”

Kara waits a few moments after Cat leaves the house to pull her phone out and dial Cat’s number. On the second ring, she hears Cat laughing. She says, “I think I’ll always need you,” half-expecting Cat to come rushing back in.

Instead, Cat laughs again and hangs up.

-x-

Jeremiah exchanges a look with Eliza before very carefully replying, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Kara.”

She’s not a child, but she feels like stomping her feet and pouting. “It’s just for a few days.”

“You’re supposed to stay in Midvale.”

“For how long?” Her temper flares; she’s not used to being denied. Then again, she rarely asks for anything. She wrestles her frustration down once more and softens her tone. “I am in control of my powers, and I am comfortable with Earth culture. Why do I need to stay here?”

“Kara,” Eliza tries. “You fought for ten years. Aren’t you worried that you may react strongly, in ways you might not expect, when things--noises or touches or who knows what--happen outside of your control?”

She wants to argue that she’s handling her temper just fine at the moment, but she doubts they’d truly listen. They agree with the government that she needs to be handled with kid gloves, and now, she wonders if they’ve been afraid of her this entire time. She mutters that she understands and excuses herself for the rest of the evening. If they won't let her go, then she'll make her own way. She didn't escape imprisonment just to be trapped again, albeit in a gilded cage. She waits in her room until Jeremiah pokes his head in to say good night, and she manages to look calm and pleasant when she responds in kind.

After an hour, she can hear both of them sleeping down the hall. She tips her head down and uses her enhanced vision to check for any bugs or chips implanted on her body. While nothing can break her skin, she knows they took some of the technology from the satellite--and if those beings could weaken her, so can the agency. Just as she feared, there’s something metal by the bones of her ankle, and she grimaces. Rather than take care of it first, she throws her meager belongings into the backpack she uses on trips into Midvale. She writes a quick note, in her messy, unsteady handwriting, and leaves it on her pillow next to her phone. Then, she opens her window and clambers down the side of the house as quietly as she can.

Her next stop is the bakery, where she heats the primary oven up as hot as it will go. Once the insides are red and glowing, she strips her shoe and sock off and rolls the cuff of her pants up. She eases her foot into the oven and presses the side with the chip to the oven’s metal wall. Her outer layer of skin is impervious, but she can feel the chip melting against her tender flesh inside. Fighting tears, she turns the oven off and puts her footwear back on. Walking with a limp, she heads down the main road out of Midvale and doesn’t stop moving until the sun is high over head. When she curls up in a wooded area, far from the road and out of sight, she thinks of Cat and tries to sleep.


	22. Eight

Cat wakes early to the sound of her phone trilling from the living room. Tired, she lugs her petite frame out of bed, stuffs her feet into a pair of plush slippers, and trudges down the hall. By the time she’s reached the other room, the ringing stops. She’s about to curse whomever was so brazen to call so early, only to leave her hanging, when the phone rings again. This time, she answers and spits out a venomous greeting.

“Ms. Grant? This is Louis Lane. I’m one of the officers tasked with the care and safety of Kara Danvers.”

The fury drains out of her and a rate akin to the blood she’d lose if stabbed in a major artery. “What happened? Is she alright? Can I see her?”

“She left the Danvers household at some point between ten last night and half past. We lost her signal at ten thirty-thirty three, where she was last located at her place of work.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she snaps. “Instead of looking for her?”

“We are certain that she’s coming to you.”

Cat sobers. “How do you know?”

“The fight that preceded her flight was focused on coming to visit you in the city. The Danvers didn’t believe it was in her best interest, and she seemed to acquiesce. However, we both know the events that followed.”

“She doesn’t know how to get here.” Cat gnaws on her thumbnail. She knows Kara is highly independent and capable, but she isn’t comfortable with the thought of the alien woman wandering around alone. She may know how to comport herself in Midvale and how pleasant interactions take place, but she doubts Kara knows how to handle people who aren’t simply rude, but actively looking to harm her.

“That’s why we have people looking in a search grid in National City’s direction. However, given her unique abilities, we may not be able to find her.”

“So you called just to cause me stress?”

“No, of course not. I have full faith that she’ll finish the journey to your home. I’m calling because I want to alert you to the situation.”

“Let me guess.” Cat glowers straight ahead, as if Lane is in front of her and capable of seeing her anger. “I’m to call as soon as she does so that you and your little military lackeys can come and lock her up.”

The quiet rumble of a laugh grates on her nerves. “No, I’m afraid not. Our goal has never been to keep Kara hostage. We restricted her to Midvale, yes, but we were still running tests at a local base to make sure her physiology won’t react negatively to Earth’s environment and oxygenation.”

Cat has to admit, at least silently, that she can’t be upset about that. “Then why couldn’t she come visit?”

“The Danvers, while associated with our endeavors, are not authorized to make decisions regarding Kara’s mobility. I assume they were concerned with Kara’s welfare, but they ought to have contacted me when she asked.”

“Say I believe you. What the hell do you want me to do, then?”

“Help her.”

Cat pauses and sucks in a deep breath. This is entirely unexpected, especially from a government official with a lost “asset.” She runs a hand through her hair, still not trusting his motives. “Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

“I just want you to know that you don’t have to look over your shoulder every moment. Nobody is going to hunt her down. I just ask--”

“For daily reports?”

“No, not unless you see the value in that.” He laughs again, but the sound doesn’t irritate her as much. “Keep her safe.”

“Her skin is impenetrable,” Cat scoffs.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Cat does, so she changes the subject. She’ll help Kara no matter what, but she wonders just what she can get from the lieutenant general. “I don’t know if I have enough in savings to care for three people. My son does come first.”

“We can arrange for a monthly stipend.”

“It’s not cheap living in the city.”

“Lois is right about you.” The mirth in his voice is palpable, and she bristles at the name. Then, she realizes that Lane isn’t exactly a common last name, and she perhaps should have figured it out on her own.

“I’m sure she’s been nothing but nice.” She rolls her eyes. “If there’s nothing else?”

“Have a good day, Ms. Grant.”

She hangs up, tosses the phone to the coffee table, and flops onto the couch. There’s still enough time to go back to bed before work, but she’s much too awake now. Kara is smart, which means she likely doesn’t have a cell phone on her. Additionally, although she’s got money in the bank from working, Kara would know that her transactions could be monitored. Thus, she knows she can’t expect any sort of message prior to Kara’s arrival to soothe her worries.

Muttering a curse, Cat moves to get ready for the day, if only as a distraction.

-x-

Kara feels awful as she leans over the edge of a dumpster behind a grocery store in the dark of the night. She’d broken a few locks, but she’s hungry. This food is perfectly fine, and it would only go to waste otherwise. Still, she’d never resorted to eating trash before now, and she wishes she’d come up with a better plan before setting out alone and on foot. Two days into her trek, and she’s lonely and tired.

However, she knows the government will be looking for her, so she tries to keep off main roads and avoids contact with others whenever possible. With this in mind, she knows better than to head directly to Cat’s apartment. She’s only half a day away from the city, and she’s heading directly for the National City Tribune, where she can hide in an alleyway until Cat comes around. Then, with Cat’s help, she can find somewhere to stay out of sight.

Pulling a bag of oranges from the bin, she drops back down. Not bothering to remove the peel, she digs her teeth in and enjoys the sharp citrus and the squirt of juice. These will have to do, she decides, as she has to get on her way if she wants to find Cat before the end of the next work day. After finishing the first orange and wiping her moist hand on her jeans, she sets off again. She waits until she’s clear of any human buildings and then speeds up, her legs blurring as she hurries through the sprawling mountains.

The sun rises on her standing at the outskirts of the city. She kneels and closes her eyes to meditate one more time before entering. Even from just outside, she can hear the thrum of activity. This is early morning, too, she notes, so the intensity is only going to increase. With anxiety sitting heavy in her chest, she understands why the Danvers were so concerned about her coming here. Still, she’s strong. She knows she can bear being beaten nearly to death for Cat, so she can make her way through this noisy place to find her.

At the sound of a horn honking and tires squealing, she rights herself and enters the city. She is immediately confused by the curving streets, high buildings, and constant aural information. She asks for directions a few times but realizes that she doesn’t have a concept of space in this confined area. Being told to head three miles down one street then make a right onto another, and keep going straight for half a mile is meaningless. She’s glad she arrived earlier than planned, as it takes her until four in the afternoon to locate the Tribune’s central office space.

She tucks herself away in an alley across the street and settles in to watch the front door. As the light slips away, she wonders if she already missed Cat. It’s plausible the other woman could go home before four, but she knows Cat’s work ethic. It strikes her suddenly that Cat might not come into work, given her recent penchant for being inside. She has to make a decision: stay here and hope or try to locate Cat’s apartment. Neither is perfect, as one has her sitting beside a dumpster all night and the other risking capture.

At six-thirty, she decides to find Cat’s apartment while she can still see well enough to navigate. She steps onto the sidewalk with one last glance at the Tribune. Her heart leaps to her throat at the sight of Cat leaving the building, her head bowed against the breeze and her eyes on her phone. For a moment, she doesn’t speak, and doubts flood her. Should she have come? In doing so, she’s dragging all her problems into Cat’s lap, and trouble is the last thing Cat needs while fighting for Adam. Her job is to help people, not make their lives harder.

She swallows, but doing so is difficult given the lump in her throat. Of course, she’d considered all of this on her trip, but everything feels much more visceral and potent now that she’s staring at Cat from across the street.

But Cat looks up, and their eyes lock. Kara takes a step backward. Cat stomps across the road, tucking her phone away just in time to grab the front of Kara’s dirty shirt.

“Where the hell have you been?” Cat jabs her chest.

Kara lifts her hands defensively. “I was--”

“I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I’ve been worried sick.”

“Um,” Kara says. 

“Well?”

“Um,” she repeats, when nothing else seems like a good response.


	23. Nine

The water sluices over her body, and she feels better--even knowing that Cat is waiting out on the couch to scold her thoroughly for her actions. She’ll never say this, in fear of further chiding, but she’s glad to have acted the way she has, as it’s landed her in Cat’s bathroom. She squirts some of Cat’s shampoo onto her fingers and inhales the light, fruity scent. Washing up slowly--although not to the extreme that would make Cat antsy and frustrated--Kara rinses off once more and tugs a towel around her body. The fluffy material is so much softer than anything she’s experienced since Krypton.

When she’s dry, she grabs the spare clothing Cat has laid out for her: a pair of shorts that must have been a bit loose on Cat but cling tightly to her lower hips and a tank top that comes to about her midriff and reaches no lower. The armholes are snug, and she’s afraid that any uses of her pectoral muscles will rip the fabric. Still, she’s been forbidden from ever touching her travel clothing again, as Cat has deemed those garments beyond saving.

She’s clean and dressed, so she has no excuse to not march right into the living room and get what’s coming to her. Instead, she hovers by the mirror and looks at her face. She doesn’t look much different from when she was on the satellite, but she feels like a totally new person. She stays right in front of the mirror until Cat calls to check on her, and she decides she can’t put off the inevitable any longer. She hangs her head and enters the room.

“I’m done.”

“Good. I’ve just finished dinner.”

Kara blinks. “Dinner?”

“The meal after lunch?”

“I know what it is,” Kara replies carefully. “I just didn’t expect it.”

Cat stands by the small, circular table, her fingers pressed to the surface next to a large plate full of mouth-watering food. Like everything else in the apartment, the furniture is minimal and classy, although not necessarily expensive. Thoughts of her comeuppance flee as she sits down and digs a fork into the hearty meal. She doesn’t want to tell Cat that her only meal for the past few days has been oranges and the occasional tasty looking thing from the woods. However, given the fervor with which she eats, she sure Cat knows anyway.

When her belly is no longer grumbling, she gathers her dishes and moves past Cat to the sink. As she rinses, she keeps her eyes averted. A hot shower and a good meal are nice and all, but she would vastly prefer Cat to talk to her, to assure her that she hasn’t done something irreparably awful. Other than essential communication, Cat has been mostly quiet and watchful, and Kara can’t bear much more.

“Please just yell at me.”

Cat tips her head back and stares down her nose. “Is that what you want me to do?”

“No.” Kara nearly shatters the dish she’s washing before she remembers to reign in her strength. “But I feel like you should. I… I upset you.”

“I’m not going to yell.”

“Oh.” Turning off the water, Kara flicks her fingers into the sink and turns around. She and Cat stare at one another for a few moments, and then Kara breaks again. “Will you say something, then? Anything?”

“I don’t know what I want to say, yet,” Cat admits.

“Are you going to call the Danvers?”

“No.”

“And you’re not going to yell at me?”

“No.”

A full decade of beatings over paltry mistakes makes her doubt Cat’s honesty. She wants to trust so badly, but there has to be a consequence for her misbehavior. Her body remains rigid as she crosses the room and settles on the couch. While she waits for her reprisals, she glances around the room to occupy her racing thoughts. The main room of the apartment houses a kitchen area bumped up against the living room with no partition. A small hallway leads to a large master bedroom and a small secondary room, with a bathroom adjacent.

Kara had initially thought the master bedroom would belong to Cat, but she’s come to learn that Cat occupies the smaller room. The larger space is all Adam’s, from the rocket ship bed to the messy painted handprints on the wall. He’s creative, Cat had confided, and she didn’t have the heart to stop his self-expression. Of course, Scott saw such things as her lacking discipline, further exemplifying why Adam shouldn’t live with her.

Adam’s room is untidy, while the rest of the home is almost exactingly pristine. She wonders if Cat keeps everything so fastidious all the time. She kept her own room fairly neat at the Danvers, if only to avoid burdening them in some way. Her chest tightens at the thought of them; she knows they’re well-meaning people, and she hopes her disappearance didn’t bring them trouble. She is, after all, under the care of the government, and they let her escape.

“Kara?”

“Hm?” She looks back at Cat and then into her lap, where her fingers have shredded the hem of her shorts. She flushes. “I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to repair or replace them.”

“It’s fine. They’re old. From when I was pregnant with Adam.”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“Stop apologizing.” When Kara’s mouth snaps shut, Cat waves a hand. “You need to understand that you’re not responsible for everything, okay? The pants were old, and I was going to toss them anyway.”

“Yes, Cat.”

Cat rolls her eyes. “Subservience doesn’t suit you, Kara. It never has. I’m not going to smack you around, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Besides, we both know that nothing on this planet can harm you.” Cat sits beside her and takes one fidgeting hand onto her lap. “Kara, I was worried about you. You disappeared, and nobody knew where you went. Dozens of things could have happened to you along the way, and I’ve been waiting for you to show up ever since I received a call the morning you left. It wasn’t a comfortable wait.”

“I’m--”

“You had better not be apologizing again.” Cat waits, and Kara shakes her head mutely. “However, you did what you thought was right, and I can’t fault you for that. In the future, I do demand advanced notice if you plan on running off into the wilderness.”

“I won’t do it again,” Kara promises. “I only did it to see you.”

“Yes, well.”

“So, you aren’t sending me back?”

“No. I’ve been granted permission to help you ease into metropolitan life. You’re free to stay here as long as you want.”

“Even if I never want to leave?”

Cat hesitates, and Kara braces for her rejection. “I’m certain that once you see what the city has to offer you, you’ll be eager to make your own way.”

While Kara has no doubt she’ll want to be beside Cat indefinitely, she doesn’t want to contradict Cat’s clearly superior knowledge. She dips her head. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“I know it’s been a while, but you’re still welcome to sleep in the same bed with me.”

The offer is laid out in a nonchalant manner, like Cat can’t care less which option Kara chooses. Kara catches the way Cat looks at her from under long, dark eyelashes and realizes that she’s not the only one who’s afraid the other will leave. She pushes down on a couch cushion and hums in mock-thought.

“This couch doesn’t seem very good for sleeping, now that you mention it. Thank you for your kind offer, Cat. I will join you.”

With a huff, Cat stands again. “We need to get you some new clothing.”

“I didn’t bring my wallet.”

A smile creeps across Cat’s face. “Kara, everyone knew where you were going. I had the Danvers send your important documents and cards a few days ago.”

“But not my stuff?”

“I saw your room,” Cat replies. She sets a hand on Kara’s shoulder. “You slept there, but you didn’t live there.”

Covering Cat’s hand with her own, Kara asks, “Can this be where I live?”

“I thought we already covered that.”

Kara shakes her head. “You said I could stay here.”

There’s another pause, and then Cat sighs. “I think we should discuss something before I answer that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve only been on Earth for a short while, and before that, you were locked away in an alien fight club. You haven’t gotten to experience very much, and I’m afraid you’ve formed an attachment to me due to the circumstances. There are two million people in National City, and I’m certain you’ll find friends. You’re too cheerful not to, honestly.”

“I don’t understand.”

Cat withdraws her hand and cocks her hip. “After what we went through, it’s natural that you’d want to cling to something safe and secure, something you know. You can’t do that forever, though. You can’t stop growing.”

Cat doesn’t want her, Kara hears. The offer to share a bed must have been pity, and Kara has felt enough of that as of late. She nods quietly and lets Cat change the subject to the upcoming trial. Either Cat doesn’t notice her silence or she’s being ignored--and neither option sits well in her stomach. Her quickly ingested meal churns uneasily, and she tunes out as much sensory information as she can manage. She focuses on a single point on the far wall and kills her body’s ability to hear until the only sound looping around her is the rush of blood in her veins. Cat doesn’t want her.


	24. Ten

Cat knows immediately that she’s said something to upset Kara, but she isn’t sure how to patch this emotional wound. This isn’t one of Adam’s scraped knees in need of a kiss, nor a papercut that just needs a dab of antibacterial gel. She realizes too late that it sounds like she wants Kara to leave, even as she’s just trying to help Kara make a life for herself. Mending what she’s broken will take a discussion of her feelings--and she’s getting the idea that that may become a commonplace event in her life if Kara is around full time.

“Kara?”

The taller woman picks at a cuticle and doesn’t look up. “Yes?”

“This isn’t easy for me. And no, before you assume the worst, I don’t mean having you around. It’s difficult for me to accept that you want to be with me. I haven’t had the best record in personal relationships, as you might surmise from my court drama with Adam’s father.” Cat licks her lips and sighs. “Everyone leaves. I’m afraid that Scott will win this whole thing, and Adam will leave me, too.”

“Then why try to push me away?”

“I’m not trying to do that. Well, I mean, I might be.” This is confusing and hard to discuss, but Cat soldiers on. She holds Kara’s hand. “I know that someday soon, you’re going to realize everything this world has to offer you. You’re going to want to go different places and meet different people. You’re not going to want…” As she trails off, she gestures to her home, neat but small. “You’re not going to want me.”

Kara scoots a little closer but thankfully remains quiet to let Cat finish. Cat warms at the increased proximity, which makes these admissions a bit easier. As she speaks, she feels lighter, so perhaps Kara is helping more than she knows.

“If you leave now, I can take it. I won’t like it, but I will survive. But if you spend months or years with me and then decide that this--that I am not what you want… I don’t know how I’d keep going.”

“I won’t tell you I will never leave,” Kara whispers. “Mostly because you won’t believe me, even if I did.”

A dry, humorless laugh ekes out of Cat without her permission. “No, I guess I wouldn’t.”

“On the satellite, you asked me to forego my freedom for your safety. You were content placing your needs first.” Kara closes her eyes and squeezes their joint hands just a bit too tightly. “Down here, I need you to let me come first. Give me my freedom, Cat. Let me choose. I know--I know that I’ll choose you, but you have to give me the option.”

Cat stares down at their linked hands and fights the sudden urge to sniffle. The urge overwhelms her when Kara lifts her spare hand and pulls Cat’s head to her chest. For several minutes, Cat lets the tears trickle down her cheeks as she reexamines the many failed relationships in her life, from Scott to her mother, and everyone in-between. Nobody has ever fought as hard as Kara to stay with her, and although she doesn’t feel worthy, she’s tired of fighting.

She sits up, fixes her hair, and dabs at the mascara likely on her cheeks. Kara helps with the clean up by licking a thumb and rubbing the running makeup away. She turns her face into the touch, eyes closed, and soaks into Kara’s freely given comfort. Finally, when a yawn works its way out, she stands up and gestures for Kara to follow her.

“I have an early meeting with the Tribune staff tomorrow morning. I’m sure we have a lot to talk about, but I’m hoping you can wait until later.”

Kara tails after her to the bedroom and slips beneath the sheets while Cat changes into her pajamas. Joining her, Cat turns off the bedside lamp and draws the comforter up around her. Kara’s arm loops around her stomach and pulls her flush; based on the heat Kara gives off, she doesn’t think she’ll need the comforter as much as she used to. She pushes it away and snuggles a little closer. She falls asleep and truly rests.

-x-

Soft lips press along her jaw and up onto her cheek. As they reach the corner of her mouth, Cat opens her eyes and peers up at Kara, who doesn’t look at all chagrined to have woken her before her alarm is due to ring. She reaches up and slips a hand behind Kara’s neck, tugging the girl closer for a kiss. After a moment, she pushes Kara away once more.

“How is it that you don’t have morning breath?”

Kara shrugs. “You don’t either.”

“Of course I do.” Rolling over, Cat eases up and stretches her arms out. She feels unusually refreshed, but that doesn’t surprise her--not having been cuddled all night to Kara’s chest, where she could feel safe and secure.

“What is morning breath?”

Cat laughs and strides to the bathroom. “When us mere mortals wake up, our mouths don’t taste very fresh. Something about bacteria that accumulates over night. Bacteria that you don’t seem to possess.”

Kara frowns. “Your mouth didn’t taste bad.”

“That’s sweet of you. But next time, just wait until after I’ve brushed my teeth.”

“I make no promises.”

Cat listens as Kara gets out of bed and creaks down the hallway to the kitchen. She might not have super hearing, like some people, but she knows that Kara is opening the fridge and rummaging about. She knew Kara would be arriving, but she hadn’t known when--so her stock of food is likely not enough to keep up with Kara’s appetite. According to Lane, she eats much more than she ever did on the satellite, which is partially why the stipend for her care is so high.

That’s something to worry about later. For now, she showers quickly and readies for the day. When she meets up with Kara by the table, she finds a stack of pancakes awaiting her. Kara gestures for her to sit and then pours her a cup of coffee, which tastes much better than it should, coming from her old coffee pot.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

“I sort of got into the habit of it, once I learned how to bake and cook a little.” Kara hesitates. “Is it bad? I always worried that the Danvers were just being polite…”

“It’s fine.” Cat took a bite and nearly purred. This is everything a pancake should be--light, fluffy, and practically melting on her tongue.

“Are you able to leave the house now without problem?”

Cat appreciates Kara’s direct nature, although she knows not everyone will. “I’m comfortable with the route to work. I’m not necessarily happy about it, but I know I have to go. I have to have a stable job for Adam.”

“You’re a very good mother.” Kara looks at the floor, and Cat wonders about Kara’s parents--where they were, if they were alive, and why Kara is all alone.

“I’m trying, although it didn’t come naturally.”

“It didn’t?”

Cat shrugs. “I’ve spent too many years trying to build my reputation as a journalist and not enough time on being his mother. I suppose that’s why Scott thinks he’s doing the right thing by taking Adam from me.”

“What does Adam want?”

That gives Cat pause. “I haven’t asked him.”

“I just… Maybe he should have a say.” Kara scoops up the dishes once she’s done. “Have a good day at work.”

“Will you just be staying here? Or do you need a key?”

“I’m staying here,” Kara confirms. “I need to get used to the noise.”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Not here. I broke it when I left.”

Cat holds back her snort of laughter. “We’ll get you one today, then. For now, keep mine. Call the Tribune if you need something--it’s in the contacts already.”

She hands her phone off and fights the sudden spike of anxiety. If someone comes after her, she won’t be able to call for help. Kara grips her shoulder, grounding her until the moment passes.

“Do you need to keep your phone?”

“No.” Cat tries to stand a little straighter. “I’m fine.”

“Cat…”

“Good bye, Kara. I won’t be long.”


	25. Eleven

Kara stands a bit awkwardly in the middle of the living room as the front door opens. If Cat were alone, then she would be totally at ease--but no, Cat is bringing Adam to meet her. The thought of someone so small and fragile makes her fingers tremble. She doesn’t want to hurt him, but she has never directly touched such a young human. What if they were more brittle? What if the strength she used when interacting with Cat is too much, and she breaks him? 

She’s out of time to worry, however. Cat steps inside with a shy shadow clinging to her leg. When Cat pushes him gently forward, Kara kneels and smiles as kindly as she can. She doesn’t miss how Cat’s expression softens, but there’s time to linger on that later. For now, she wants Adam to like her. If he doesn’t, then she isn’t sure Cat will still want her around. Adam comes first, she knows that, and he always will.

He slips a plump thumb between his lips and hesitates a foot or so beyond her reach. Cat scolds him quietly, and his thumb pops free with a thin line of spit. Sighing, Cat bends down and helps clean up his face and hand. With her enhanced hearing, Kara hears Cat whisper about him starting kindergarten in the fall, and did he really want the other kids to tease him for sucking his thumb?

He shakes his head emphatically and finally speaks: “No, Momma.”

“Good boy,” Cat replies, a hand coming to rest in his hair. “This is Kara, Adam. She’s going to be staying with us.”

“My room?”

“No, that’s still your room. She’s staying in my room, with me.”

Adam considers this for a few moments and then nods. “Like Miss Ellie does with Poppa.”

Kara is fascinated by the internal reaction Cat exhibits, even as her face remains blank and calm. There’s a racing pulse and a grinding of her teeth, so Kara knows Cat is not at all happy with whoever Miss Ellie is.

“She lives with you now?”

“Sometimes.”

Kara intercedes, hoping to reroute them into a happier moment by reminding them of her presence. “It’s really nice to meet you, Adam. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

His wide, blue eyes return to her face, and he studies her carefully. He’s got a round face with chubby cheeks and a mop of dark hair in need of a trim. A Batman backpack sits on one shoulder, which matches the Batman logo on his shirt and socks. She wonders if he got his strong silent type routine through hero worship.

“Hi,” he finally replies. “You play Pig Pen?”

Kara glances to Cat. “I haven’t?”

“It’s a board game. Pen the Pig.” Cat searches for something in her gaze, and Kara tries to look confident--even as she’s entirely too worried about winning him over. “We can teach her how to play, baby.”

He beams proudly. “I winned most the games.”

“That’s great,” Kara enthuses. “Is it your favorite game?”

The conversation is mundane, but Kara finds something very soothing about the exchange. Cat returns a few moments later with the game, but Adam barely notices, too intent on telling Kara a play-by-play of his last match. While Cat reads the rules aloud, Adam distributes the fence pieces and pigs. Kara resolves to let Adam win but not too obviously. Her strategy apparently matches Cat’s, as Adam beats them three times in a row and declares himself King of the Pigs.

“Your room is a bit of a pigsty,” Cat teases, and Kara marvels. She’s never seen Cat so happy and open. When they’re alone together, there is relaxation and pleasure, but this is something entirely different. Cat lights up with Adam, and Kara wishes more than anything that she can help that light stay bright.

“Nuh-uh.” Adam crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, Mr. King of the Pigs, what do you want for dinner?”

Cat clicks her tongue at the request for pizza, but she allows the champion the spoils of his victory. As she walks away to place the order, Kara leans in. For a moment, his attention is on the plastic pigs in his lap, but when she starts speaking, he looks straight up at her. There’s so much Cat in his eyes and the crook of his smile.

“Do you mind if I ask you a hard question?”

“Okay.”

“You know your Momma and Poppa both really want you to live with them, don’t you?”

His forehead crinkles. “Yes.”

“Where do you want to live?”

“Poppa says that Momma can’t have me,” he whispers.

Saddened that he’s in the middle of all of this, Kara rubs his back. “But if you could have it anyway in the world, what would you want?”

“All us together.”

“That’s really nice, Adam.” Kara smiles at him, knowing all the while that Cat would rather not come anywhere near Scott--and from the sounds of it, Scott wants nothing to do with Cat, either. “You’re a smart kid.”

He sits a little straighter, puffing his tiny chest out proudly. “I got a A in coloring.”

Cat returns, fighting a laugh. “Mrs. Morinaga did say you had some natural artistic talent. You must get that from me.”

Kara settles on the couch and watches mother and son bicker with each other. Her throat constricts, and her nose tingles with unshed tears. She had that with her parents at one time. She must have. And she was supposed to have that with Kal. Instead, she doesn’t even have memories, and she can no longer picture the faces of her parents. Pretending to yawn, she announces that she’s going to take a small nap before dinner. She feels Cat’s eyes on her back as she retreats, but she doesn’t want to add anything else to Cat’s already heavy load. This is a burden she can bear on her own.

She is the last daughter of Krypton, after all.

-x-

“Do you like him?” Cat cuddles up against her in the dark, one hand thrown carelessly over her hip.

“I love him.”

Over dinner, Kara had discovered that he could recite the alphabet already, and he could blow milk out of his eye--when Cat wasn’t looking, of course. He had proudly shown her the scar on his knee, from when he’d fallen off the top of the monkey bars--which Cat explained later to be a piece of equipment for children to swing from. Every anecdote and every smile wrapped around her heart like gauze on an open wound. She’s known him for an evening, but she already knows she’d die for him, just as she would for his mother.

“He is a pretty good kid.”

“Yes.”

Cat lifts her hand and runs it through Kara’s hair. “You were good with him. Were you around children before...?”

Neither of them likes mentioning the specifics of their captivity; Kara knows that Cat still hurts from the experience and doesn’t want to exacerbate the pain. She hoards her secrets, as if the act of telling someone will somehow spoil them. But, she’s the last of her kind, and it’s her duty to keep her family alive by speaking about them.

“My cousin was born shortly before. I got to hold him a few times.”

“How…” Cat sighs and tries again. “How did they capture you?”

“I was traveling in a ship, and they picked me up.” It’s most of the truth, but she can’t bring herself to admit the other details. She can’t talk about having her parents all but shove her in a pod or the horrible few moments as she was leaving the launchpad when she could see them hugging and sobbing. She can’t tell Cat that she failed to raise her cousin like she was supposed to. She can’t.

“I was at home,” Cat murmurs. “Here, but in the living room. I was getting ready for work. They just appeared behind me. Asked if I was Catherine Grant and then whisked me away when I threatened to call the police.”

Kara frowns. “How did they know your name?”

“I don’t know. I’m just glad Adam wasn’t here.”

Kara pulls Cat closer and kisses her softly. “You may not have been born a mother, but you have become an excellent one.”

Cat glows from the compliment. “You’d make a good one, too.”

Kara flinches back and rolls onto her side. Even though Cat tries to turn her over again and probes for answers, Kara forces her breathing to even out and fakes sleep until Cat gives up and drifts asleep. Then, Kara leaves the bed without so much as disturbing the sheets. She opens the window, removes the screen, and crawls out onto the small ledge just outside. Staring up at the stars, she thinks about Kal and prays to Rao that he is alive and well.


	26. Twelve

The recess comes none too soon; Cat is on the cusp of saying something very regrettable to her ex-spouse, who sits smugly and lets his attorney drag her through the mud and then hang her up to dry. Her own attorney has had brilliant rebuttals--but she knows how this goes. The mere mention of impropriety makes people wonder, even when rational, factual evidence provides otherwise. People are stupid creatures, she thinks as she looks up at the judge, who pretends not to notice her sharp gaze. He’s old, which could work in her favor. He might be traditional and might see a child as better off with its mother. Then again, he might lean more in favor of his gender than his generation’s off-color values. If a man wants his son, he ought to have him--or however the honorable Judge Wittaker would phrase it.

Kara follows her out into the hallway beyond the courtroom and pulls her into a tight hug that she hadn’t known she needed. She relishes in the offered comfort, burying her nose in Kara’s hair and centering herself in Kara’s strong grasp. After a moment, though, she remembers to look composed and put-together, so she draws back and rearranges her hair.

“You’re not happy?” Kara whispers, careful to keep her voice ever so quiet.

Cat touches Kara’s wrist and shakes her head, hoping that Kara understands that this is not a conversation they can have here. “I need some fresh air. Join me?”

But Kara isn’t looking at her. Kara is looking beyond her, and for a moment, she feels very lonely. Then Kara is moving in a straight line toward where Scott confers with his attorney. Her features are dark and angry, so Cat grabs her arm--Kara is practically buzzing with power just below her skin. She jerks, hard enough to draw Kara’s pinpoint focused attention.

“What?”

She blinks, turns her attention back to Cat. “I want to know what he meant.”

“What do you mean?” Her gaze flickers to him and back. “Did he say something?”

“She wasn’t supposed to come back.” Kara’s voice is low and dangerous. “They’re talking about you.”

A feeling akin to an ice cube sliding down her spine hits her. “What?”

“I don’t know. I want to ask him.”

The last thing Cat needs right now is Kara being noble and defending her. She can imagine how the judge will view Cat’s close, personal friend roughing up her ex-spouse, regardless of the situation. Adam can’t be allowed in close quarters with such a violent person, he’d say as he granted Scott full custody. She warms at the knowledge that Kara will continue fighting for her, but still, she can’t let go of Kara’s arm.

“Now isn’t the time,” she murmurs instead of, _“Sic,”_ which would have been more instantly gratifying. Some of the anger seeps out of her; Kara isn’t a trained dog that she can just set on those who have hurt her. She knows Kara is complex and oh-so human in the ways that count, and she resolves to never forget that. “We need to be calm and in control.”

The words have their intended effect. Kara relaxes her shoulders, and Cat can almost see the tension bleeding out of her. She notes that Kara’s gaze has slipped back to Scott, but she won’t chastise Kara for that. Linking their hands, she tugs Kara out onto the front steps of the building and tips her head back. She sucks in a full breath of air.

“This isn’t fair,” Kara says, sitting on the top step and folding her hands over her knees.

Cat sits gracefully next to her and watches the nearest intersection. Cars dart through, accelerating as the signal changes to yellow. Before all of this, she’d been the sort to do the same; she misses that aspect of aggressive side of herself. The old her wouldn’t let Leon bully her into letting a story die. She would have gone around his back and submitted her piece to as many places as possible; if they all rejected her, she’d post it on a blog. She’d keep going so that everyone knew the truth. Instead, she feels relegated to sidekick when she used to be hero.

“No. Life rarely is.”

“He doesn’t deserve to just walk away.”

A car swerves in the intersection, making a sharp left turn in front of oncoming traffic. The other cars weave around the disturbance but continue forward, as if nothing had interrupted their flow. Cat digs her nails into the rough cement of the step and lifts up, just enough to feel the tug of her nails struggling to stay both attached to her fingers and caught on the step.

“I don’t doubt that he will.” She shrugs, resignation settling into her bones. Scott has money and privilege and a winning smile. Even if she could find out what he meant, she wouldn’t be able to do anything with the knowledge. 

After a moment of contemplation, Kara offers, “Justice is rarely what I expect. When I was young, my mother arraigned my aunt. The sentence was an eternity in a timeless zone. I’ve never understood…”

This is the first real piece of information about Kara’s family that Cat has freely received. She picks it apart, wondering about the relationships implied by the few short sentences. She wants to know more, needs it more than she cares to admit. However, just like earlier, this is not the time. Her focus needs to be on Adam.

“We should get back inside.” Cat stands and offers Kara a hand. Kara can get up on her own, but she accepts the help anyway. They linger a moment in the sun, and Cat appreciates the way Kara practically glows in the direct light.

-x-

“I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t cry. She can’t.

She sits on her couch and stares at the far wall. As far as she can tell, her heart thuds onward without her permission. Kara is beside her, clutching desperately at her hand and trying to evoke a reaction other than stoic silence. Her free hand digs into the couch cushion. Into his favorite cushion. Her throat clenches.

“It’s not over,” Kara attempts.

“It is.” Cat pulls her hand free. She resettles her hair and crosses to the kitchen. She can all but hear her mother’s voice in her ear, reminding her of her failures.

“They said they’ll reconsider the case in three months.”

“And until then, we have one weekend a month and dinner on Wednesday nights.” Spitting out her next few words, Cat can’t stop the venom. “And if--if--I can prove competence, then perhaps I’ll have a chance at every other weekend.”

“Cat…”

“He’s my son. My goddamn son.” She doesn’t realize she’s clutching a knife until Kara’s gentle fingers pry her fist open and remove the utensil.

“And he always will be.” There are traitorous tears burning at her eyes. She hastily scrubs her wrist across her cheeks just before Kara envelopes her in a hug. Struggling to get free, she pushes on Kara’s shoulders. “Stop this. You can’t possibly understand. I just need--I need to be alone.”

Kara doesn’t release her grip, although her eyes soften and dart away. “I was supposed to raise my baby cousin, but we got separated. I live everyday with that failure.”

“You have a cousin?”

“Somewhere.”

The fight goes out of Cat, and she places her forehead on Kara’s sternum. “I never knew.”

“His name was Kal-El,” Kara whispers in her ear. Strong fingers stroke down her back. “He would be eleven now.”

Cat does a quick calculation and frowns. “You were supposed to raise him at fifteen years old?”

“I just mean that I might not understand, exactly, since I never got a chance, but I… I can empathize.”

“I don’t know much about you, do I?”

Kara hums under her breath. “You know what I’ve told you, and that should be good enough.”

It isn’t, but Cat is struggling to think of anything but her own current woes. She’d expected a tough battle with a ruling in both their favors. As awful as Scott has been to her, she didn’t want to totally deprive her son of his father. Adam isn’t a pawn to be yanked back and forth like some sick game of tug-of-war. An amicable split custody would have been in the best interests of all parties, and she now feels sick. Hope is powerful: It can buoy a captive fighter for a decade, but it can also destroy.


	27. Thirteen

She cradles Cat to her chest and listens to the thrum of the city’s nightlife just beyond the window. Speaking of her family the previous evening had sharpened her memory, made them feel more real once more. With this in mind, she starts talking while Cat sleeps atop her, rambling about Krypton and her home. As dawn nears, she finally speaks about her mother and father. She drifts into her native language, not noticing that Cat’s breathing has shifted patterns. When a tear dribbles down her cheek, Cat reaches up to rub it away.

“What were you saying? I caught a few words, but…”

Kara wants to deny the importance of her middle-of-the-night rambling, but she defaults to honesty. “I was telling you about my home and my family.”

Cat yawns, stretches, and nestles in close. “In English this time, please.”

“I don’t want…” Kara nibbles on her lower lip. “You have enough to worry about, without me adding more. More than I already am.”

“Kara, darling, I want to hear about them. I want to know about you.”

This whispered permission settles warmly in her chest. She strokes her fingers along Cat’s back and looks up at the ceiling, searching for distant stars. “My mother’s name was Alura.”

“Was?”

“She’s dead.”

Cat’s fingers stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Everyone is.” A moment of still, tense silence falls over the room, and Kara regrets saying the truth so bluntly. Cat hushes her attempt to backpedal, so she settles on saying, “It was a long time ago.”

“What happened?”

“Our planet became unstable and exploded.” Recounting this so many years later--it feels like a full lifetime--is less painful than she thought it would be. This trauma happened to someone else, and in a way, she supposes she is someone entirely different than the bright-eyed, eager-to-smile child who had been pushed into a pod and shot into the depths of space. “My cousin and I were the only ones to escape.”

“Where did he end up?”

“I don’t know.” There’s an inkling of a memory tugging at the edges of her mind. “We were on course for--”

Cat waits a second and then prompts her for more. She closes her eyes tight and strains for the data locked away in her mind. The pods were programmed to fly directly to a planet in a system with a yellow sun. The planet was habitable for their kind, and she would have a fair chance at protecting Krypton’s legacy.

“Kara?”

“We were on course for Earth.” She laughs, short and stilted, like the sound of breaking bones. “He was supposed to land here, with me.”

Cat’s alarm blares, and the moment ends. Kara releases her grip so Cat can toss the blankets back and get to her feet. Pausing at the door, Cat turns abruptly and says, “This conversation isn’t over, Kara. We’ll talk more later.”

-x-

Kara slips out into the city after Cat goes to work. She doesn’t know why she lied and said she’d stay home yet again, but there she is, walking down the busy street with her hands jammed in her pockets and her guilt thudding in her chest. She’s aimless at first and drifts from corner to corner while her eyes rove the crowds. Nobody bothers with her, and the anonymity of the moment feels strange.

A familiar scent wafts to her nose, and she trails toward Bayfirth’s Bakery, which has its door propped open. Once inside, she makes her way to the glass display case and examines the finest assortment of sticky buns she’s ever seen. Her mouth waters, but she remembers her lack of a wallet before she accidentally asks for all of them in a box to-go.

“Can I help you?”

She glances up at the cashier and quickly reads his name tag. “No thank you. I was just looking.”

“They’re hot and fresh,” Carter offers. “Best in the city.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Kara replies. They smell delectable. “But I forgot my wallet at home, so today is just browsing.”

He looks over his shoulder and then reaches into the case. Pulling out a sticky bun, he deftly wraps it in parchment paper and hands it to her. “One on the house, if you think you can manage to come back and buy one tomorrow.”

The smile that floods her features is hard to contain. She gratefully takes the bun and bites a chunk from the top. The sugar melts on her tongue, and the breaded interior is flaky and perfect. Her eyes close as she takes another bite, and then another--until Carter laughs at her expression and tells her to get a room.

“Where?”

“What?”

“You told me to get a room. Where?”

“It’s just a saying,” he replies, tilting his head to the side as if he’s reevaluating her. “You from here?”

“No.”

“Makes sense. Where you from?”

The answer should be Midvale, but she wants to trust this man with the flour smudged on his cheek. “Krypton.”

“I’ve never heard of that. Is it in Canada, or something?”

“It’s another planet.”

He sputters with laughter before realizing she’s serious. “Wait, really?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, that’s cool. I met an alien once, but she was from Tamaran, not--what was it?”

“Krypton.”

“Right. So, you’re lucky number two, I guess. What’s your name?”

“Kara Zor-El.”

“Carter Young.” He extends his hand, and she shakes it vigorously.

“Thank you very much for the sticky bun, Carter Young.”

“You’re welcome, Kara Zor-El.” He leans on the counter and shakes his head. “That’s what I love about this city. You literally never know who’s going to walk through the door.”

“You’ve lived here a long time?”

“Since I was five and my parents moved us all here for my mom’s job.”

She finishes the bun and licks her lips. She’ll definitely be back in the future for another. “Where are your favorite places?”

“I could, uh, show you some time, if you were interested?”

“I would appreciate it.” She smiles at him again, tossing the wrapper into the waste bin. “I don’t have a phone again yet, but I’ll come back another day.”

“Great,” he calls as she heads to the door. “I’ll be here. Well, I’ll be here twenty hours a week.”

“I’m glad to have made a friend,” she responds, “even if only for twenty hours a week.”

-x-

Two days later, Kara drags Cat down the sidewalk to the bakery, chattering about how good the sticky buns are, and the cashier is the nicest. She’s glad that Cat isn’t angry about her excursion outside, at least not visibly or verbally, because that means she can share the first of her good solo experiences. Luck is with her, too, since Carter is behind the counter.

“Carter! This is Cat!”

Carter grins. “You back to eat us out of house and home?”

“I have money this time.” Kara flushes. “Well, she has money this time.”

Cat huffs, but Kara knows it’s all for show. “How many buns do you want?”

“How many can I have?”

“One.”

Kara slides closer and whispers so only Cat can hear her. “I know you’re anxious being out this way, but I really want to share these buns with you. It’s important to me.”

“Fine. We’ll take five. Two for here, and three wrapped for home.”

Carter dips his head to hide his smile. “Coming right up. Anything else?”

“One chocolate chip muffin.” Cat hands him the government-issued credit card and adds, “She eats a lot.”

“That alien physiology, huh?”

Kara flinches, having not warned Cat that she’d told Carter that particular detail. “Cat, I--”

“It’s not really fair,” Cat replies. “She gets to eat whatever she wants and still look like that.”

“These buns go straight to my hips,” he confides.

“It’s a good thing you’re willing to take her around the city, then. You can work off the calories trying to keep up with her.”

Kara relaxes, glad that Cat is being her own brand of friendly. While they eat their buns, Cat and Carter discuss the mayor’s recent decision to pull funding from lower performing schools, and Kara sits and listens, eyes closed. She understands a bit better why Cat is afraid she’ll leave; the city is full of interesting places and people.

But it only reinforces what she already knows: Even with all her options, she chooses Cat.


	28. Competence

Cat regrets making Kara remain at home as she steps into the purportedly neutral meeting place. Her lawyer stands instinctually on sighting her, and Scott’s lawyer follows suit. Scott, however, remains in his chair, fingers drumming against the table and silence stony and unbreachable. She sits across from him and stares him down until one--or both--of the lawyers clears their throat. She dismisses the well-meaning but actually meaningless gratitude expressed for showing up.

As if she would miss this, she thinks derisively. This is her last shot at partial custody for the next few months; if they cannot come to an agreement on their own, then the judge’s decision will be enforced, and there’s no way in Hell she’s going to let that happen. Part of the reason she didn’t want Kara here is because she’s sure she’ll have to debase herself before Scott in the hopes he’ll show her mercy. That’s always what he’s wanted from her, for her to rely on him. She isn’t sure now what ever drew her to him in the first place, other than his ambition matched her own. She should have known that he wouldn’t be comfortable with her outpacing him. Still, none of this anger can come out in this meeting. She must be pleasant and friendly, without making them think there’s something wrong with her.

“Good morning, Scott.”

“Cat.”

Good. Pleasantries were out of the way. She leans forward, palms flat on the table. Her attorney touches her elbow, but she ignores him. “We both know why we’re here, so let’s not waste time with formalities. I am not happy with the current arrangement, and I would like to discuss what it will take for Adam to spend more time with me.”

Scott smiles that crooked smile that at one point in time she found roguishly charming but now just looks lopsided. “Well, Cat, I’m pretty happy with how things turned out.”

“I just want you to take Adam’s needs into consideration--”

“Oh, that’s rich.”

She bristles, losing control already. She focuses on the stories Kara has been telling her, of a long-destroyed planet. The distraction works infinitely better than counting backwards from ten, or whatever other bullshit her shrink is trying to sell her on.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“When did you ever stop to consider Adam’s needs for the first five years of his life?”

“Every day,” she spits back. “When I went to work so he could have everything he ever wanted.”

“Happiness isn’t things. He won’t give a shit if he got a PlayStation for Christmas two years ago when he’s thirty and looking back at his life. What he will remember is how dear old Mom couldn’t take time off over Thanksgiving for dinner with the family.”

His lands blow, every single one of them, and she lowers her eyes. “I know I haven’t been the most present mother in his life, but I’ve been making an effort to change.”

“Oh? The three months of taking him to the zoo and the toy store, anything to try and win him over with trinkets instead of love?”

“Don’t you ever question my love for our son,” she hisses, nails digging into the arms of her chair.

He lifts his hands. “I guess we just express our love different. I try to actually be there for our kid.”

She thinks about the many ‘business trips’ Scott had taken with his ‘secretaries’ over the length of Adam’s life and the emotional tumult of being told to just buck up when he was bullied in school. She thinks about the call she placed to his school to make sure the necessary consequences were being applied to the correct children and the time she put into finding those women better positions once they’d been used and cast aside. So, she wasn’t at every family function. But she thought she’d done enough to qualify as a not-terrible parent.

Saying any of this to Scott will solve nothing. If she so much as tells him there’s a stain on his shirt, he will, regardless of reality, find a way to spin it so that it sounds like she’s insulting him. He has the power to rip her son from her hands, and she hates it--but she has no choice. She doesn’t know how he convinced an impartial judge that she is incompetent, but it definitely sits wrong in her stomach. If he has connections, then nothing she does will show her ability to care for Adam, and nothing will change at the following court date. Worse, if anything goes wrong, then he can argue for full control over Adam’s life, including if and when Cat can see him.

“Scott.” She softens her tone. “I understand that we’ve had our personal differences over the years, and I appreciate the time and effort you’ve put into caring for Adam. That’s why I would never dream of seeking full custody. Whether we get along or not, he loves us both, and he will benefit from having both of us in his life.”

“I don’t disagree. That’s why I’m allowing you those visits.”

She grits her teeth. “He loves his room at my apartment. I’m not going to dance around this anymore. Scott, if you will allow him every other weekend and two dinners a week, I’ll owe you. Please.”

He folds his fingers together and considers her. His lawyer leans over and murmurs in his ear, but he waves away the counsel. “You don’t have anything I want, Kitty.”

This is a fruitless effort. She shouldn’t have even come. She rises, proud of how straight and stiff her spine is. She will not show weakness in front of him, will not chum the water. “Very well. I expect you’ll break the news to Adam about how you won’t let me see him.”

“I’ve already told him what the court wants,” he shoots back; she knows there’s not much else to say, not without being maudlin.

Still, she makes one final plea, hoping to reach the small part of him that isn’t an asshole. “I was… I was going to be better. Before--before it happened.”

He frowns. “I know, Kitty.”

His response, along with his comment at the courthouse, sink into her belly, settling down deep and hard and heavy. She can’t prove he was involved in her abduction, not yet at least, but she knows. She knows just as surely as she loathes that smile. She mutters that this isn’t the end and disappears through the building.

-x-

Kara pores over the documents sprawled on the kitchen table--which she’d sworn would be cleaned up by dinner time. That proves to be an impossible promise to keep, however, as her initial research had led to more print-outs and further Internet searches. Cat’s rickety old printer is keening its death throes when Cat enters the apartment, a bag of groceries in one arm.

“You’ve been busy.”

Kara lifts her head to smile, and there’s a smudge of ink on the tip of her nose. “Your world wide web is powerful. Not as powerful as the crystalline data networks, of course--”

Cat willingly plays along. “Of course.”

“--but I’ve found all sorts of information about sightings of unidentified flying objects ten years ago.”

“How many?”

“All over the globe, there were nearly two hundred.”

Clicking her tongue, Cat shakes her head. “Some of those aren’t real.”

“No, but if I track everyone down--”

“That will take forever. Let me see your work.”

Kara gladly gives up her seat. She truly enjoys watching Cat slice and dice her way through information. When she figures out Cat is totally wrapped up in the project, she puts the groceries away and starts making dinner. As the pot of water comes to a boil, Cat nods and stands. She splays her hand on the papers.

“I cross-referenced the sightings. Only two dozen have multiple sightings, which suggest those might be the real ones. There’s a chance that a group of space cases colluded to create hype, but twenty-four events is much easier to handle than hundreds.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Cat preens, smirking proudly. “I know.”

“How did--”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Cat interrupts. “Keep telling me about what you’ve been up to today, or how you want to pursue these leads. Better yet, tell me something about your childhood.”

Kara flushes, pleased and relieved that Cat hasn’t found her history boring. Every time she talks about her past, the burden feels lighter. She’s no longer the only person in the universe with a memory of Krypton and its people. Cat carries those memories, too, so she’s not alone.

“I broke my arm when I was five cycles,” she starts. 

As she continues, she adds pasta to the pot and turns her attention to making a hearty meat sauce. After watching how hard Cat works every single day, she’s focused all of her cooking efforts on loading Cat up on healthy energy sources. There will be no missing vitamins or nutrients for either of them, and that way, Cat will be at her best to win back custody of Adam. Even if she doesn’t want to talk about it right away.


	29. King of the Pigs

“You should do it.”

Cat stares at her computer and nibbles on her thumb. She reaches toward the trackpad on her laptop but stops short. “This could ruin my career.”

“Or it could start it.” Kara wishes she could give Cat some of her strength, but instead, she has to stand helplessly. Cat can make it through this; all she needs to do is submit her article to a larger publication, one with fewer connections to the city. One that isn’t afraid of the last name Luthor.

“I never used to be this uncertain,” she complains, turning away from the screen.

“You can be confident again. I know you can.”

Cat sighs. “Perhaps after lunch.”

“No.” Kara grabs Cat’s shoulder and uses just a touch of her strength to keep Cat from standing. “If you get up now, you’ll know you can just keep putting it off. Either do it now or give up.”

Cat visibly bristles. “That’s--”

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

“I never should have let you watch those movies. We both know that’s bullshit. There’s plenty of trying, and not succeeding doesn’t mean failing.”

Kara lifts her eyebrows, aware that Cat is attempting to change the subject. “Cat…”

“Fine.” Dropping a hand on the keyboard, she presses send and then slams the laptop shut. “Happy?”

“Only if you are,” Kara replies. “This wasn’t to make me feel good. You know that, right?”

Cat shrugs. “Feels not so ideal right now.”

Kara kisses her cheek. “I promise it will.”

-x-

When Adam arrives to spend his one weekend with Cat, Kara offers to leave. She doesn’t want to interfere with Cat’s invaluable time with her son, and she doesn’t mind wandering the city for the weekend. She’s much better prepared to be loose in the city on her own, and she’s fairly certain that Carter will allow her to sleep on his couch if she asks. He’s a little too nice for someone raised in this environment, at least if she goes by the number of people who jostle her on the street and then complain about her being in their way.

“I’d like you to stay.”

Kara wonders what else Cat isn’t saying. Her voice wavered at the end of the statement, which makes her think there’s more. “Then I will.”

“Thank you.”

Adam smiles up at her shyly, and she squats next to him. “Good to see you, little man. Your mom and I have been practicing Pig Pen, so maybe this time, one of us can win.”

“King of Pigs,” he replies, adopting an expression he must have learned from Cat: his nose tips up, and he somehow looks down his nose at Kara, despite being lower to the ground. 

“Better watch out, then. Sometimes, kings get removed from their throne.” Cat offers him her hand, and he takes it. She guides him to the couch and helps him get his small shoes off. Most people need to remove them on entering, but Adam is a special case. “How was preschool?”

Kara lingers behind, watching the pair fondly. When she sees them interact, she can almost recall her own parents. They were careful and gentle with her, just as Cat is with Adam, and the tendrils of a forgotten lullaby hum at the edges of her memory. She takes Adam’s shoes from Cat and lines them up at the door, and as Adam is likely hungry, she moves into the kitchen. Under Cat’s watch, he isn’t allowed too many sugary treats or foods loaded down with unhealthy preservatives.

So, Kara takes special care in frying some rice and vegetables, along with small nuggets of salted and peppered chicken. It’s a simple recipe, but she’s discovered how fond Cat is of it. She hopes Adam shares Cat’s delight--but if he doesn’t, she just have to work harder to figure out how to make him happy. Once all is cooked, she gathers three plates, arranges the food, and transports it all to the table.

“Ready for dinner?”

Adam looks up briefly from the action figures he’s playing with, and she can see he’s trying to figure out if wants to play or eat more. Cat solves his dilemma by scooping him up under the arms and carrying his squirming form to the table. She kisses his cheek and sits to his right. Kara watches him wolf the meal down, getting a good portion of the rice on the floor, and decides that he can’t hate it. He’s not complaining, although he might just want to get back to playing.

“Any luck with finding a job?”

Kara shakes her head and stares down at her plate. “I’ve tried a few places, but I don’t have a lot of experience. The Danvers got me the first job, since they knew the owner, but I don’t have that sort of connection here.”

Cat tilts her head. “Would you want to work with me?”

“I don’t know anything about journalism.”

“Leon needs a new secretary. It would be a lot of taking notes and making calls, if you’re up for that. I could put in a good word for you.”

Kara hesitates. “I haven’t spent much time with anyone but you or Adam.”

“Then this could be the perfect opportunity for you. Imagine how assimilated this will make you.”

Trying not to show her sudden uncertainty, Kara nods. “I’ll give it a try, if you think it’s best.”

“Great.”

Assimilation. Kara gnaws on the word. It feels like she needs to strip away her cultural identity to assimilate into this one, as if she cannot truly be an Earthling as long as she’s a Kryptonian. Cat likely doesn’t mean this, but Kara wonders how much more of Krypton will wither away in her fading memories. Perhaps, if she finds Kal-El, she can teach him more about their home, just like she’s doing with Cat. Perhaps the more people she tells, the more alive Krypton can become. If she sheds her identity, it will only be to prop it up for posterity’s sake.

Later, as Cat tucks Adam into his rocketship bed, Kara settles onto the couch. She wants to go say good night as well, but this feels like a mother-son moment that she doesn’t want to intrude on. Cat joins her a few minutes later, looking both happy and frustrated. Kara doesn’t need to ask to know why.

“Why can’t Scott see how happy he is here?” Cat lets her head flop back against the couch. Kara eases her down so her body is horizontal instead of vertical. With a small tug, she guides Cat’s head onto her lap, where she has a much easier time running her fingers through Cat’s hair and gently massaging Cat’s skull.

“I think all Scott sees is his own perspective. My aunt was a lot the same in that way.”

“Astra?”

“Yes. She knew our planet was doomed and tried to prevent it, but her idea to stop the destruction alienated many people. My parents would never tell me what she was trying to do, but I remember how fervently she argued that she was right, even in the face of others who didn’t believe her.”

“She sounds like a very strong woman.”

“She was.” Kara cards her fingers and smiles at the purr of contentment it evokes from Cat. “Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn’t. But she couldn’t see past her own knowledge and experiences. Couldn’t see that maybe her peers had different ideas that could help. Her way was the only way.”

“I see.”

“I may not know Scott like you do, but I assume he is like most other fathers, who want to do right by their children. You and I both know that Adam needs you, but Scott may have experiences contradictory to yours.”

“He said I wasn’t there for Adam, at least not at the beginning.” Cat shifts, pressing her nose into Kara’s belly. “I hate… I hate that he’s right.”

“If that satellite taught me nothing else, it’s that you can’t linger on past defeats. You have to keep trying to win because people are counting on you. Adam is counting on you.”

“How am I supposed to do anything about this? How am I supposed to keep fighting?”

“Be there for Adam now.”

Cat’s next sigh is long and drawn out. “I suppose I’m just worried that I won’t know how. He’s a complex human being, albeit very small. My own mother was--unpleasant, so I have nothing to base this on.”

“Let him be King of the Pigs,” Kara murmurs. “Ask him how he feels and what he wants. Make sure he knows you love him. That’s what I would want, anyway.”

“Hm.”

“He loves you the way you are, Cat, and… and so do I.”

Cat is quiet for another few seconds and then sits up. She offers Kara her hand. “I think it’s time for bed.”


	30. Forming New Connections

“Danvers!”

Kara startles to her feet and nearly drops the handful of papers she’d been sorting through. Leon is demanding but not in the kind way that Cat is. He huffs and yells and punches his finger on his desk so hard she’s afraid he’s determined to break his fragile bones. Still, sometimes she can glance out into the bullpen and find the top of Cat’s head, bowed in front of a computer, and the abuse feels worthwhile.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’s this?” He holds aloft a sheaf of stapled papers.

She identifies them easily as the article Shaun had all but begged her to slip into the pile of articles in need of editing--despite being turned in late. She knows how rough Leon’s temper is, and she can’t deny her coworker his plea. She’d snuck it in after making him promise to be more punctual in the future.

“An article in need of editing.”

“Wasn’t here when I left for lunch.”

“It wasn’t?” He tosses the pages at her, and they flutter to the ground. She bends quickly to pick them up. “Sir, he was only a bit late. There was a problem with the printer--”

“I don’t pay you to make excuses,” he snaps.

Her mouth shuts. She’s not sure why he won’t simply allow his employees to submit digital copies. The hassle of printing everything is a waste of resources and a source of constant stress, but if she tells him this, he’ll just tell her he doesn’t pay her to have opinions, either.

“Yes, sir.”

“Throw it away, Danvers. And don’t try that shit again.”

She nods, averting her eyes. As she marches to the recycling bin, she makes brief eye contact with Shaun, but he has to look away quickly. Stretching her senses out, she listens to the calm thud of his heart. She’d been doing that more often recently, in the interest of eventually using her skills without blasting them at full power. She’s starting to understand what certain human reactions mean--like how Cat’s heart hammers when they’re touching and Adam’s races at the sight of ice cream. A beat like Shaun’s suggests that nothing out of the ordinary occurred. That what had happened was expected. She wonders if he purposely gave her the late article, just to get her in trouble.

She feels immediately bad that she could think that about someone, based purely on a reaction he can’t control. Once she rids herself of the damning evidence of her mistake, she slips into the bathroom to calm herself down. Thirty seconds later, Cat follows her in.

“Are you okay?”

Kara shakes her head. “It’s difficult to understand,” she says, quiet and uncertain.

“What is?”

“Did Shaun humiliate me on purpose?”

Cat shrugs. “I’d hope not, but you never know.”

Easing the sink on, Kara dips her hands into the cold water and lets the drastic shift in temperature help her refocus. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.”

“If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else,” Cat offers.

“Meaning all humans are cruel.”

“Meaning most humans are self-protective by nature.”

“Like you asking me to lose.”

Cat’s cheeks color, but she doesn’t deny the charge. “We’re a flawed species.”

Kara flicks her fingers dry and straightens. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“Mm.” Cat’s gaze lingers before she turns, and Kara is left wondering once more. She’ll never know the intricacies of Cat’s mind, although she’s decided she wouldn’t want to. She enjoys the strange variety of not being able to fully expect what Cat has whirling around her mind. “Today is payday, you know.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about it. Do you want me to start paying rent?”

“Not why I mentioned it, and no.”

Kara tilts her head. “Okay, so it’s payday?”

“Do you have plans this evening?”

“I was going to make you dinner.”

“Put a pin in that. Wear something nice. Be ready at six.” Cat turns. “And Kara? Don’t get angry." 

Kara wants to ask a question, but Cat disappears back into the office. She dries her hands more thoroughly with a paper towel to give herself a moment more and then follows after. When she is once again composed, she heads back into Leon’s office.

“There you are, Danvers.” He glowers at her. “I need you to get coffee. Think you can handle that, blondie?”

Despite feeling the anger in her stomach, she manages a smile and a curt nod. “Of course, Mr. Rayes. Your usual?”

“No. Surprise me.” He hesitates and adds, “You know that’s sarcasm, right, Danvers?”

She wants to tell him that her social skills do extend to the subtleties of the English language, but she knows he doesn’t want to hear it. “Yes, sir.”

As she pushes through the work day, she keeps her mind on the coming evening. She doesn’t know what Cat has planned, but she’s bursting with excitement.

-x-

It’s not much, Cat admits with a hint of embarrassment flushing her cheeks. Kara doesn’t mind that the restaurant isn’t fancy; all she cares about is Cat’s fingertips on her lower back, guiding her toward a table set for two.

“This is great,” she says as she sits down, smiling widely.

“Someday, I’ll be able to afford to take you to five star restaurants.”

“I know.”

Cat peruses the menu for only a few moments, seeming to already know what she wants. “My father used to take me here, when he bothered coming to see me.”

Although Cat’s tone is light and conversational, Kara immediately understands that something difficult is being communicated; Cat’s hand is curled into a tight fist, and there’s a line of tension striking across her brow.

“Did he travel often?”

“He lived in Metropolis, and after the divorce, he never saw the point in visiting.” Cat waggles her fingers dismissively. “He doesn’t like the weather on this part of the country, you know?”

“But it’s beautiful and sunny.”

“Doesn’t agree with his complexion.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I have very few fond memories of him. But coming here… we almost felt like family.”

Kara looks at their surroundings with more respect. She understands better that means something to Cat beyond a simple date. “What I have learned is that a family is whoever you choose.”

Cat nods slowly and deliberates over her next words carefully. “I choose you.”

Although indirectly stated, Kara knows this means Cat loves her. She places her hand over Cat’s and squeezes. Cat clears her throat as the waiter approaches, and Kara respectfully leans back. Kara hasn’t been on any other real dates before, but she has a feeling this will be the best date she’ll ever be on.

-x-

As they lie down together in bed, Kara rolls onto her side and brushes hair from Cat’s forehead. She wishes she still remembered how to paint because the green of Cat’s eyes glinting in light from the bedside lamp is stunning. Her hand lowers, ghosting against Cat’s cheek on the way down. Cat catches her hand with a kiss.

“Thank you for dinner,” Kara murmurs. 

Cat’s only response is to nudge Kara back against the mattress and ease a leg over Kara’s middle. As her hands trail along Kara's ribs, she leans low. Her warm breath puffing against the sensitive skin just below Kara’s ear, she whispers, “May I?”

Kara tenses for a moment. “I’ve only--What I mean is…” She swallows her words down in case something pops out that might offend Cat. She can't quite describe why she can't do this right now--just that her stomach is clenching, and she feels like she's back on the satellite. She loves Cat, wants to touch Cat, but somehow the thought of having the same done to her is too much.

“We don’t have to,” Cat replies. “We can just go to sleep.”

Kara feels the tightness in her chest easing. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for being a decent human being.”

Kara wants to say that after everything she’s been through, kindness isn’t something she’s come to expect. Instead, she cradles Cat to her chest and closes her eyes. Cat’s breathing is slow and even, and Kara matches her breath for breath until she falls asleep. When she awakens, she finds Cat still pressed to her chest.


	31. Carry a Big Stick

They take a trip on a long weekend off of work and visit Salt Lake City. It’s the nearest of the UFO sightings in the right time frame, but Kara isn’t surprised to discover nothing relating to her cousin. If anything had actually streaked across the sky in 1980, it wasn’t a Kryptonian pod carrying Kal-El. She’s not terribly disappointed, however, as they spend much of their free time relaxing together. Kara especially enjoys the Natural History Museum, while Cat prefers the architectural tour. They scratch Utah off their list of possibilities when they return to National City. There are two more in the United States, but they range out to Kansas and Georgia, which would require more time and money than either has to spare.

“We’ll find him,” Cat promises.

Kara isn’t nearly as sure but ever optimistic replies, “I know.”

-x-

Scott’s letter sits unopened on the kitchen table for two days before Kara can take it no longer. She picks the thin envelope up and carries it to Cat, who lounges on the couch and watches birds flit by the window. At Kara’s approach, she redirects her attention for a moment--just long enough to assess the interruption of her musing--and sneers at the envelope.

“You need to read it.”

“I don’t need to do anything but pay taxes and die.”

Kara sets the letter on the coffee table and takes a seat. “What if it’s something good?”

“You’ve seen Scott in action. You ought to know the probability on that one.”

“May I open it?”

Cat waves a hand flippantly. “If you must.”

Kara understands that to mean Cat is interested in the contents but apprehensive about looking. This way, Kara can preview and protect, if necessary. She slides her finger in and rips. Removing the page of notebook paper with messy scrawl, she quickly scans every word. There’s no apology within, which she finds disappointing, but there is an insulting offer. She’s tempted to pretend like there’s nothing--but this is Cat’s decision, not her own.

“He wants to offer you supervised visits.”

Cat lets out a little huff of air. “He can’t trust me with my own son, I see.”

“He does say if they go well, you can talk about changing the custody agreement.”

“He’s just trying to show how willing he is to work with me, so when I turn him down, I look like the obstinate one.” Cat rests her forehead against her fingertips. “He’s always done this. Made me look like the bad guy.”

Kara has nothing to offer verbally, so she simply sets her hand on Cat’s knee and lets Cat think out loud.

“I have to accept this,” she finally decides. “I have to look willing to compromise and work with him, no matter how humiliating this is.”

Justice is not just, Kara is reminded once again. If doing so wouldn’t make Cat’s life harder, Kara might want to rough him up. Her people always relied on diplomacy before violence, but Kara doesn’t feel particularly Kryptonian anymore. Her name has been erased and her cultural kindness beaten out of her. She’s no Earthling, either, so she wonders what she’s become.

-x-

The first visit is at a public park, and the social worker sits on a bench nearby while Cat pushes Adam on the swings. She’s determined to make the most of this time with Adam, even after he asks why she has to have a babysitter. The urge to blame his father is strong, but she resists admirably, simply telling him that the social worker is there so she can tell daddy how much they enjoy being together.

As he jumps off the swing and runs for the monkey bars, her phone buzzes. A quick glance at the social worker confirms that she is under very strict observation. Although she’s curious as to the message, she doesn’t want to look ungrateful for the visit or like she’s letting work get in the way of Adam’s needs. She hurries over to catch him as he slips from the last bars; he lands giggling in her arms and hugs her tightly.

The phone can wait.

She enjoys the rest of their time together before Scott shows up to spirit Adam away to their dinner plans, and Cat finally pulls her phone out and checks her voicemail. The missed call comes from a number she doesn’t recognize, so she listens to the message expecting a scammer to tell her she’s won a fabulous vacation. Instead, a rather serious sounding woman informs her that one Kara Danvers is being held for trespassing into an inhabited dwelling. No charges are being pressed at this time, but Cat needs to come and accept responsibility for Kara.

Crossing town to the precinct gives Cat plenty of time to get angry, rationalize everything, and then get angry once more. She signs a form at the front desk and waits as a guard fetches Kara from holding. As she walks forward, Kara keeps her eyes trained on the ground and her hands limply at her side--but Cat can see tension and frustration radiating off her.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” Cat says, taking Kara’s arm and heading for the door. Kara’s fury subsides quickly under her grip. As soon as they’re outside, Cat cocks an eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

Kara gnaws on her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I know I must have interrupted your time with Adam.”

“I didn’t get the call until after.”

“That’s good.” She takes a few steps down to ground level and tucks her hands in her pockets as they walk. “I think I understand better now.”

“Understand what?”

“My people were diplomats, or liked to think of themselves that way. I guess we were diplomatic in the same way that Scott is.”

“How does this relate to trespassing?”

“The thing about diplomacy is that it only works when the people involved have equal power. Otherwise it’s just bullying.”

Cat nods. “That’s a fair statement.”

Kara lifts a hand and runs her fingers through her hair. “I thought I was helping. I heard arguing, which is easy enough to ignore, but then--then I heard something hard but soft all at the same time. And crying.

“I looked through the wall, and there was a man on the floor. His nose was bleeding, and he was the one crying.”

“Domestic violence.”

“Yes. And the door was open, so I saw a chance to…” 

Cat wants to suggest that Kara is seeking to stop more violence than she enacted on the satellite, but she doesn’t want to presume too much. “To what, Kara?”

“To help.” Kara finally looks up. “I went inside and tried to talk to the woman who was standing over him. She didn’t want to listen. She started yelling at me and telling me to stay out of other people’s business. When I kept trying to reason with her, she threatened to call the police. I didn’t realize I was the one breaking the law. I thought the police would help the man. But when they arrived, the man claimed he just got a bloody nose because of the dry air.”

Cat slips an arm around Kara’s waist. “The police didn’t want to listen to reason, either, I suppose?”

“No.” They walk in silence for several minutes before Kara speaks again. “I wanted to believe that I could stop violence without my strength, but that’s just a dream, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I’m a pretty big fan of using words to enact change.”

By this time, they crest the stairs to the apartment, and Cat drops her grip to unlock the door. Kara follows her inside and then drops onto the couch. She cradles her forehead and speaks in a crumbling voice.

“I killed him.”

“The man?” Cat can’t keep the confusion and the amusement out of her voice. “Kara, even if that woman does murder him at some point in the future, that death is not on you. You don’t have to protect everyone in need.”

“On the satellite.” Kara counts the fibers of the carpet. “The fighter from Daxam, when I was supposed to lose.”

Cat recalls Kara coming home alive but in horrible shape. At the time, she’d known that Kara had won, but she hadn’t devoted much thought to the other fighter. She’s a bit ashamed that all she could focus on then was her own survival.

“I stopped fighting, so that the match could end in a draw. Neither of us would lose, but neither of us would win, either.” A salty tear drips down Kara’s nose. “But they wouldn’t let it end without a winner. They wanted a fight, whether I wanted it or not. So, I killed him. Just like that. They wouldn’t get their show, and they wouldn’t get you.”

Kara killed for her. She thinks this over and over again, her mind struggling to assess the angles. “Would he have killed you?”

“I don’t know. No. I don’t think so.”

“You did what you had to--”

“Did I?” Kara lifts her head to meet Cat’s gaze. “I stopped the violence, I guess. It worked better than compromise and words and every other peaceful way to end a conflict. Is that what I’m for? Who I am now?”

Cat doesn’t have an answer. She pulls Kara close and closes her eyes, wishing that the universe would just be nice to the both of them for a few short minutes. She’s beginning to realize, much to her consternation, that the Intergalactic Fighting League had stolen so much more than just ten years of Kara’s life.


	32. An Outlet

Kara bounces on her heels as Cat reads aloud from the e-mail. Her submission has been reviewed and fact-checked, and they are pleased to offer Cat a moderate amount of money for the rights to publish it. They encourage her--encourage, Cat repeats with a sly smile--to submit future pieces. There are no openings on their staff currently, but they will keep her in mind in the future. 

“That’s so good!”

“Hm, it’s enough for now. Next time, we’ll demand more money.” Cat leans away from her keyboard. “For now, however, we should celebrate.”

Celebration, Kara finds out, means being left behind while Cat goes out for three hours on her own. She comes home with several large bags, which she doesn’t let Kara root through. Kara huffs quietly as she’s banished to the kitchen to make dinner. She sharpens her hearing and listens to Cat unpackage several items; she doesn’t cheat with her vision, however, as she gets the feeling this is some sort of surprise for her.

She takes the pan from the range and sets about arranging the food into neat piles on their plates. While she’s definitely no fancy chef, she appreciates a nice looking serving. Cat meets her at the table, and they share dinner with light conversation. Kara’s eyes continually flick toward the covered items by the window, just beyond the couch, and Cat indulges her curiosity with a smirk.

“I’ll do the dishes, if you’d like to take a peek.”

Kara stands quickly and tries to pace herself; she fails. In under a second, she’s by the window, lifting the sheet from the arrangement. She pauses, staring at the easel, canvas, and paints lined up at the base. Her hand trembles, so she tosses the sheet aside and presses her hands to her thighs. She’s glad Cat is otherwise occupied because she definitely needs a moment to process this.

When she feels able, she selects a brush and runs her fingers along the soft bristles. They feel different from the utensils she used on Krypton, but their purpose is clear enough. Cat has selected a wide variety of colors, and there are a few more canvasses stacked behind the easel. This is for her, based on a passing conversation what feels like a lifetime ago, and Kara doesn’t know what to say or do. She barely moves as Cat’s arms encircle her and hold her close.

“I know it’s been awhile since you’ve painted, but I thought you might enjoy it.”

“I don’t know how,” Kara tries to complain.

“Oh, it’s easy enough to start. Pick a color and draw a line.” Cat tightens her grip. “Unless you’re into hyperrealism, it’s more about your process than your product. Or so the woman at the Holsom’s told me in the paint aisle. She helped me choose.”

“You should have spent the money on yourself.”

Cat presses a kiss to her temple. “Oh, but I am. I’m being very selfish, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm. You should have seen your smile. I’d have to be some sort of Scrooge to not get those sappy, do-gooder feelings.”

“Scrooge?”

“A character from a classic story and movie.” Cat shifts around to face her. “It’s a Christmas thing, so don’t expect to watch it anytime soon.”

Kara nods. “I’ll look it up later.”

“The point is that making you happy is my way of making me happy, and we both know how much my life revolves around that.”

Laughing quietly, Kara nods again. “I don’t know how to say thank you.”

“The only gratitude I need to see is you using these supplies.” Cat draws a finger along the stark white of the mounted canvas. “I got Adam a train set for Christmas last year, and he was so excited for exactly three days. Do you know where that train set is now? Buried in the back of his closet, where it’s been since December twenty-eighth.”

“I’ll use them,” Kara promises solemnly.

She keeps her promise, too. After work the next day, she comes home and sits in front of the canvas. Taking Cat’s advice, she selects a shade of green, which she splurts into a plastic tray. She’d watched a few videos earlier about mixing paints to create more diverse colors, but she wants to start simple. She dabs her brush and delicately adds a splash across the canvas.

-x-

Cat returns a bit later and finds Kara hard at work. She sits on the couch and watches quietly as a green sphere takes shape center. It’s perfectly round, although Cat can’t fathom how Kara managed that without special tools. No, she paints that perfect circle with just a keen eye and careful hand. Around the sphere, an ocean of blacks, reds, and greys swirls. Kara uses her brush and paints liberally, and her strokes are uneven and emotional. Certainly, the piece doesn’t look anything like the classically renowned paintings Cat has spent hours standing in front of in museums.

But there’s still something dynamic and engaging about the energy Kara paints into the canvas. As Kara washes her brush for the last time, Cat leans forward.

“Is it Krypton?”

“It’s up to your interpretation,” Kara replies, not making eye contact.

Cat tries again: A marble? A star? An abstract frog? Kara’s answer doesn’t change. It’s not until later that evening as Cat readies for bed that she realizes. She’s coming up from washing her face when she spots her reflection in the mirror. This close, she notices the color of her eyes. She doesn’t mention her revelation as she slips into bed, but she pulls Kara close.

-x-

At four in the morning, the phone rings shrilly, and Cat curses that she didn’t put it on silent before bed. She normally does, so she must have simply forgotten. Kara thankfully saves her from a headache by answering quickly and whispering the conversation. Unfortunately, Kara makes everything worse by flipping the lights on and scurrying about the room. She throws a duffel bag on the bed, narrowly missing Cat’s legs, and loads clothing inside.

“Kara, do you know what time it is?”

Kara pauses, a pair of underwear dangling from her fingers. “Um…”

“It’s very, very early. Do you know what this makes me?”

“Very, very tired?”

Cat huffs. “Yes. So, what should you do?”

“Cat, that was Jeremiah. Eliza’s gone into labor.”

Cat shakes her head. “Even if we leave right now, we might not make it in time for the baby’s birth. What’s a few more hours of sleep?”

Embarrassed, Kara eases the bag to the floor and curls up once more. She clearly can’t sleep, however, as she twitches into different positions every few minutes. Cat finally sits up and tosses the covers back.

“Fine,” she announces with a grumble. “We’ll go now. But I expect a nap with no distractions when we reach Midvale.”

“Yes, of course.” Kara beams and hurries to dress herself. “I’ve never really been around babies before.”

“Your cousin?”

“Doesn’t count. I think I held him once before we had to flee. Plus, that was a very, very long time ago.”

A decade doesn’t seem that long, but Cat doesn’t argue. She simply gathers a few key items into her own overnight bag and heads to the kitchen to douse herself in coffee. She’s halfway through her second cup when Kara appears in the doorway, dressed and ready for the drive. Cat pours the rest of the pot into a travel mug and then quickly showers and pulls out something suitable for long hours in the car.

“Can we go yet?”

“You sound like a child,” Cat calls over the whoosh of the hair dryer. “I’m almost done. Practice your patience.”

Kara harumphs and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. Trying to seem like she’s not hurrying at all, Cat rushes through the rest of her routine and waves Kara out to the car. Each trip outside is easier and easier, and the thought of going to some unknown hospital in Midvale isn’t as frightening as it once would have been. It helps, she realizes, that Kara will be with her the entire time--as if Kara is some security item for an infant.

“Well?” she asks from the front door. “Are you coming?”

Kara doesn’t mind the sour tone or the glare; she just dances past to the car and settles into the passenger seat. Cat selects some trashy upbeat pop music to keep from lulling herself back to sleep and sets off.

-x-

“Did we miss it?” Kara barrels into the waiting room, where Jeremiah paces to and fro.

He turns at the sound of her voice and pulls her into a tight hug. “Not yet. She’s almost fully dilated, though.”

Kara doesn’t know the particulars of what that means in this context, but she’s not sure she wants to know. She draws back from the hug and tilts her head toward Cat. “We got here as soon as we could.”

“Yes, even though there hardly seems a reason to rush. Babies aren’t exactly in a rush to leave the womb.”

“How long did Adam take?”

“Twelve hours, although I felt the contractions for a few hours before I said anything.”

“Wow.” Kara marvels at Cat’s fortitude. “Would you ever do it again?”

Cat ponders this for a moment; previously, she thought Adam would be her one and only. Now, she sees honest curiosity and desire in Kara’s eyes, and she wonders if a second child would ever fit into their lives.


	33. A Labor of Love

Kara finally understands Cat’s lack of a rush when the early morning drifts into late afternoon and there’s still no baby ready to be held and cooed at and kissed. She glances at Cat, who slumbers uncomfortably in a chair with her neck bent at an angle, and feels minutely guilty for dragging them all the way to Midvale instead of sleeping in. She’s about to wake Cat and send her to the Danvers’s to sleep in an actual bed when a boy walks into the waiting room and leaps into Jeremiah’s arms for a hug.

He’s small with thin arms and legs and a pointed chin. She catches a glimpse of his clear blue eyes before he ducks his head and hides his face behind gently curling black hair. When he leans back, he smiles up at Jeremiah, who chides him for hugging too hard.

“Sorry, Uncle Jerry.”

“You’re not sorry at all, you little monster.”

“Am too.” He sticks his tongue out and then turns toward Kara. “Hello.”

“Hi.” She’s not sure what to make of him, or why he’s here.

“I’m Clark,” he says, holding his hand out. She gingerly takes it and uses as little strength as she can, wary of snapping his bones. He has no such reservations and holds on tight. She stares down at his hand, wondering how so much power is coming out a boy with arms that look like twigs.

“Kara.”

He glances behind him and points to a man and woman talking to a nurse down the hall. “That’s my mom and dad. They made me sleep in before we got on the plane to come here. I wanted to come straight away.”

Kara flushes. “It’s better you got to sleep. We left right away, and the baby isn’t here yet anyway.”

He shrugs. “But I coulda missed it.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” She smiles at him and gestures to Cat. “This is my--This is Cat.”

“Taking a cat nap?” His grin stretches ever wider, and she fights down a laugh.

“She doesn’t like cat jokes.”

“Well, I’ll get them all out meow, before she wakes up.”

“I’m already awake,” Cat grouses, prying an eye open.

Kara lifts her hands. “I’m so sorry. We’ll be quieter.”

“No. I won’t do more damage to my spine.”

Kara drifts closer and sits in the chair adjacent to Cat’s. “They think it’s going to be soon.”

“It had better be.”

“I, um, listened in. She’s in pain. Is that normal?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… Did it hurt you with Adam?”

Cat snorts. “Of course. That’s how birthing works. Didn’t they teach you about the facts of life?”

Kara moves her gaze to the floor. “I hadn’t reached the appropriate age.”

“Oh.” There’s no apology forthcoming, but Kara can feel remorse radiating off Cat. “Well, it hurts like hell.”

“And you went through twelve hours of that?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” 

Kara can’t decide if she’d ever let her own body suffer in this way. She’s seen Cat’s love for Adam, and she knows how excited Eliza was prior to these last handful of hours. Still, the agony she hears doesn’t seem worth the eventual benefit. Then again, she hadn’t thought she’d have children until she’d come to Earth; there was no way she’d ever bring a child into the IFL’s grasp again.

“And this young man is related to the Danvers how?”

Kara shrugs. “I heard him call Jeremiah ‘Uncle,’ so probably a nephew.”

“He’s a chipper thing, isn’t he?”

“He’s as excited as I am about this.”

“Give me a few hours more, and I’ll get there.” Cat stands and stretches. “Help me find the cafeteria?”

“Of course.”

“Jeremiah, do you need anything?” Cat waits while he drags his eyes away from the door. Kara knows how badly he wants to enter, but he respects Eliza’s wish to be alone until the crowning.

He shakes his head, so Kara leads Cat down the hallway, up a flight of stairs, and through a maze. The cafeteria is large but mostly empty, and there’s only three people ahead of them in line once they select a few sandwiches. Kara takes them to a table fairly distant from the other diners.

“How are you feeling?”

Cat fights a yawn. “Like I’m ready to run a marathon.”

“Very funny.”

“I’ll be glad to sleep in a real bed tonight. Assuming, of course, that Baby Danvers arrives.”

“Alex. Their name will be Alex.”

“Alex, then.”

Kara eats three of the sandwiches in quick succession and waits patiently for Cat to finish her one. “If you’re tired, you should go take a real nap.”

“As soon as I leave, Alex will decide to come into the world.” Cat rolls her eyes. “I’m not leaving yet. This is important to you.”

“I still feel a little badly that I left the way I did.”

Cat dabs her lips with a napkin. “You shouldn’t.”

“But--”

“Kara, one thing this life has taught me is that nobody will look out for you, so you have to look out for yourself.”

“You won’t look out for me?”

“Now you’re just being petulant.” Cat cocks an eyebrow. “The only person who knows what’s best for you is generally you. Yes, sometimes an educated professional can recommended best practices, but you know yourself better than anyone else.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who or what I am.”

“Just like the rest of us, you’ll spend the rest of your life figuring it out.”

“It used to be so much clearer,” Kara whispers. She doesn’t mention the satellite because she doesn’t want to upset Cat, but she can’t help but remember how thoroughly she knew her position. She was Kara Zor-El, champion of the Intergalactic Fighting League. Here, she is Kara. Just Kara, the girl without a planet or a family. Before she gets too morose, she reminds herself that Cat is her family now, but still--her mother and father are dead, and her cousin is at the mercy of the universe.

“It’s much the same for us mere humans. Childhood seems so simple, and then you hit your adult years and realize you know nothing. The same thing is happening to you, albeit a little delayed.”

Kara glumly thinks that she almost preferred being told who she is and what she’s to do. She wasn’t haunted then by existential crises. Taking physical blows is easier than manhandling her way through figuring out herself.

“Still, they deserved more than me running away. I didn’t even care that the government might get angry with them about letting me escape.”

“You were never imprisoned there,” Cat offers. “At least, that’s what they tell me.”

They seem to be at an impasse, so Kara relents. She’s afraid of what might happen if she ever let herself get truly angry, and this situation is starting to lead to frustration. “We should get back, just in case you were right, and the baby knows your location.”

Cat links their hands as they walk back, and Kara appreciates the comfort. She doesn’t like disagreeing with Cat, although doing so is inevitable. She wishes for her paints so she could wash away the ugliness churning in her chest. As if sensing her upset, Cat squeezes their joined hands, and Kara finds a smile once more. When they enter the waiting area, Clark bounces into them.

“The baby's coming!”

Kara drops Cat’s hand and runs with Clark toward the door; they can’t go in just yet, but she wants to be ready when they can. She listens closely to the doctor giving directions, to Eliza’s pained breaths, and Jeremiah’s quiet encouragements. Then, she hears crying--and she doesn’t need her enhanced ability for that. She pitches back, surprised and subsequently delighted. The door pushes open, and Jeremiah pokes his head out.

“It’s a boy.”


	34. ALEX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm out of town this weekend, so enjoy this filler chapter.  
> TW for transitioning.

**Three.** Her earliest memory is Kara tossing her in the air, although she’s too young at the time to realize how far up she goes. What she does know at the time is that this is a ton of fun--and it’s probably something they shouldn’t be doing. There’s no fear in her heart that Kara will drop her. She knows Kara. She loves Kara. Kara would never hurt her. She lands securely in Kara’s hands, giggling madly and jabbing her hands up, up, up--again! Kara obliges her over and over, until she’s tired and demands a nap. When she falls asleep, she dreams about flying through the clouds.

 **Five.** Preschool is the first time she realizes that maybe she isn’t good. She’s told Santa that every year around Christmas, in order to receive every gift on her list--but she’s always thought it was the truth. Despite getting caught up past bedtime with a flashlight under a blanket, she can’t really remember doing anything wrong. But then Mrs. Reece tells her class to line up, boys in one line and girls in the other. She stands with the girls, until Mrs. Reece scolds her and shoos her over to the other line. She stares at the girls and wonders why she’s a boy. All her friends are over there. Bridgette. Anna. Jackie.

When they go outside for recess, marching in their neat little lines, one of the boys behind her sticks his foot out, and she falls down. She doesn’t feel the pain of her scraped knee while she listens to the class laugh at her apparent clumsiness. She hears the boy say, “Oops,” but he doesn’t apologize, and the teacher doesn’t notice what happened. That’s not fair, so she stands back up and pushes his shoulder so hard that he falls down, too.

Mrs. Reece grabs her wrist and drags her back; pain shoots up her arm, and she cries out, digging her fingers into her hand in an attempt to get free. She gets a finger thrust in her face and an order to go to the principal’s office. She sits there, sulking, until Daddy arrives and speaks with Mr. Oneata. She’s been very bad, he says, and she braces for a grounding. Instead of punishing her, Daddy takes her out for ice cream. They sit in the Baskin Robbins, him with a rocky road cone and her icing on the cake, and he asks her about what happened.

She wants to hide her own bad behavior, but her Daddy loves honesty. That’s the most important thing, he tells her, so she explains everything she can remember--not excluding the part where she fought back. He licks at his ice cream as he listens, and she braces for his judgment. He lets her say everything and then considers for a few minutes. Finally, he tells her that she shouldn’t look for fights, but he’s glad she protected herself. He asks her why she tried to stand with the girls.

She doesn’t have an answer.

 **Eight.** Spending the summer in National City is officially the coolest thing her parents have ever let her do. She’s super excited that they trust her to do this, and she has some stuff she wants to talk to Kara about anyway. Stuff that just didn’t seem to be okay to say over the phone or in an e-mail. When Cat shows up at the airport to pick her up, she gladly sits in the front seat--even though she shouldn’t--and delights as Cat lets her choose the radio station.

“How was the last week of school?”

She shrugs. “The tests are too easy, and then we had a pizza party on Friday.”

“Well, that’s just second grade.”

“Third,” she hurries to correct. She’s proud she’s been moved ahead, even if she gets made fun of a little bit more for being the smallest, youngest person in the room.

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Science.”

“I should have known,” Cat replies with a laugh. “Kara will be disappointed you’re not more interested in art.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Art is okay, but like, everyone can do it.”

“And you want to be special?”

“Duh.”

“I don’t suppose you have any interest in Language Arts?”

“Ca-at.”

They arrive--thankfully with minimal pressure to become a journalist someday. Cat mentions that Kara is in the art room, so she kicks off her shoes and darts upstairs to the small bedroom at the end of the hall. There are a few easels set up and covered canvasses scattered about. By the window along the wall is Kara, her coveralls dabbed with paint and her hair drawn up in a loose bun at the back of her head.

“Kara!”

“Alex!”

Kara spins around and picks her up. She wheezes when the air is squeezed unceremoniously from her lungs. Batting at Kara’s shoulders, she signals that she needs space, and Kara obliges her.

“You’re here earlier than I thought. I was hoping to have this done for you.”

She turns her attention to painting nearest Kara and grins. “Is that--?”

“Yes. Rao, with Krypton in the distance.”

Taking a few moments to properly enjoy the present, she tilts her head and pretends to be an art dealer. “Mm, yes.”

She loves being here, with these two very different but very loving women who treat her like she’s someone special and valuable. The first night of every visit, she gets to curl up between them in bed while they watch a movie on a laptop and munch on popcorn. She knows this drives Cat crazy, so she’s pretty happy that she gets away with it. One time, she heard Cat chiding Kara for the behavior, but Kara doesn’t seem to mind.

Kara doesn’t seem to mind anything, which is why she wants to talk. When Cat gets in the shower before bed, she turns to Kara and fiddles with the edge of blanket. Kara is patient with her, as always, and lets her gather some nerve before talking.

“I think I might be an alien.”

She braces for a laugh, but Kara just considers her curiously. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t think I’m like other people.”

“That’s a good thing, Al.”

“Is it?” She chances a glance up into Kara’s kind eyes.

“Yeah. It doesn’t mean you’re an alien, though. I was there when you were born. I would know.”

“Oh.”

“Why aren’t you like other people?”

“I don’t think I’m a boy.”

Kara wraps an arm around her shoulders. “I know.”

“You know?”

“Al, you had me buy you a Wonder Woman Halloween costume when your parents wanted you to go as Batman.”

“So? Boys can be Wonder Woman.”

“But how many boys wear the skirt for a few weeks after?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know anyone like me. Doesn’t that make me weird?”

“Yeah, it does.” Kara presses a kiss to her forehead. “But no weirder than me. I’m really an alien. I would know.”

She sleeps well that night.

 **Thirteen.** She stares down at his little face and marvels at how perfect his eyelashes are. She bets she was never that small; she’s looked at her birth certificate, and she knows she was born seven pounds, eight ounces, and twenty-two and a half inches long. He’s nowhere near as big, surely. When Cat bends over near her, she cocks her head to the side.

“Do all babies smell?”

“You better get used to it,” Cat advises. “We’ll have you babysitting in no time.”

She huffs. “I don’t want to change diapers.”

Kara swoops in through the window, a cheek smudged with soot. She kisses Cat’s cheek and then the crown of Alex’s head. “Then I guess you won’t be getting paid.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough to touch poop.”

“Says the little scientist who dissected a sheep brain just last week.”

“They were sanitized,” she argues back. “And it was for learning purposes.”

“As long as it was for learning.” Cat’s voice is dry, and Alex giggles.

“Maybe in a few years, then.”

 **Twenty-three.** Graduate school is both everything she's ever dreamed of and her worst nightmare. At least at this new school, nobody misgenders her, since nobody has ever met her pre-transition. So, while she's being worked to death, she at least gets to do so as a woman. When she's not working, she's at the bar, drowning her stress in beer and the occasional fruity drink--depending on what's cheapest during Happy Hour.

It's at The Pearl that she finds herself in a game of billiards with a very attractive woman late one night after she's turned in her final paper for the one stinker of a professor who demanded a complete rewrite before the end of winter break. Maggie, she says to herself, enjoying the heft of the name, as well as the friendly glint in Maggie's eyes. She loses, hard, but she blames this more on her distraction than any incompetence. Thankfully, Maggie doesn't seem to mind that she all but knocked the eight ball in on the first shot and finds her flustered chatter cute.

When she was younger, she'd fallen in love with her best friend, but she'd fought the feelings down. Back then, she'd questioned her gender identity based on the crush because she couldn't handle the thought of being both gay and transgender. If she was going to have feelings for girls, why couldn't she have been a boy? Most of that insecurity has been stripped away in the ensuing years, but she's tentative in approaching Maggie. When she leaves with a number scrawled on her palm, she goes home and can't sleep. She waits until the next morning before texting. When she gets a flirtatious response back, she immediately calls Kara to share the good news.


	35. Greased Lightning

Kara’s fear of breaking Alex seems to be a universal anxiety, as she isn’t the only one handling the baby with the utmost care and trembling hands. Alex’s little fingers wrap around one of her fingers, and she knows with absolute certainty that she’s going to help raise this child; doing so won’t make up for losing her cousin, but she has a chance here to make a positive difference. She kisses Alex’s head and then places the child back in Eliza’s waiting arms. Now that the excitement is all but over, she knows Cat really does need to rest somewhere comfortable.

On her way out, Jeremiah taps her shoulder. “You should really talk to Clark,” he says. “I think you two might have a few things in common.”

She cocks her head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the first person whose planet of origin I’ve been sworn to secrecy about.” He wobbles his head back and forth. “Then again, we don’t know what planet he’s from, so I couldn’t exactly reveal that anyway. I think he could use a friend who understands.”

Kara nods and turns. “Congratulations on your first child, Jeremiah. We’ll check in once more before we return to National City.”

Cat is snoozing in the waiting room once more, still looking massively uncomfortable. Clark sits near her, kicking his feet to burn off spare energy. He’d been the first one in to see Alex, and since his turn expired, he’s been sentenced to waiting patiently for everyone else to finish up. Because Cat is asleep, Kara takes the opportunity to follow up on Jeremiah’s tip.

“Hey, Clark.”

He beams up at her. “Hey, Kara.”

She takes the seat adjacent to his. “Uncle Jerry was just telling me that you might not be from around here.”

“Um.” His legs no longer kick. “I’m not s’posed to talk about that.”

“I’m an alien,” she confides. “I was born on the planet Krypton.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s so cool! I haven’t met an alien before.”

“You’ve met yourself, haven’t you?”

“You know what I mean.”

She nods. “What do you know about your people?”

“Nothing. My spaceship came with, like, a book? Sort of. On a flash drive, I guess. But they can’t read the language.”

“I know a lot of languages, even ones that are alien. Maybe I could take a look sometime.”

Brightening, he leans toward her. “Really?”

“Really.” She sets a hand on his knee. “Maybe we can find out where you’re from--and if you’re really lucky, I’ll know something about them.”

He hugs her tightly just as Cat yawns and sits up. Kara bids Clark good-bye and ignores Cat’s loud exclamation of relief that they’re leaving. She knows Cat is merely being melodramatic for the effect, but she hopes the Danvers didn’t hear. She knows Cat exceptionally well and so knows her dry humor for what it is, but not all people have had her experiences. Clark laughs again and waves, either aware of Cat’s sense of humor or humoring her.

Out in the car, Cat leans her head back and yawns. “I really do need to sleep.”

“Me, too.” Kara glances over fondly. “Thank you for staying. It means a lot.”

“Stop thanking me for being a decent human being. It’s annoying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing.”

Kara chuckles. “Thank you for understanding my need to apologize.”

Cat glares at her for a moment and then swerves out of the parking lot.

-x-

When Cat can’t stay away from work any longer, they head back to the city. Kara finds leaving Alex behind quite difficult, but she promises she’ll come back to visit as often as she can. Alex gurgles, which she assumes is acceptance. Back in their apartment, Kara feels out of sorts. A lot has happened, and she’s happy to be home, sad to have left, anxious about the future, and angry at herself for having lost Kal. The emotions careen through her, and she stands in the living room for several minutes while Cat unpacks their bags. 

Finally, Cat finds her there, unmoving and silent; arms wrap around her midsection, and she instinctively leans back into Cat’s grasp. She tries to find words for what rattles around between her ears, but she’s overwhelmed. Cat just holds her until she regains control over her breath and body.

“What would you like for dinner?”

“We should order in,” Cat states in a tone that Kara didn’t dare argue with. “We’ve been busy, after all. We deserve a break.”

“Do we have the money for that?”

“Mm. Let me worry about that. You, sit. Choose a movie. And no, it is still not the right time to watch a Christmas Carol.”

Kara does as ordered while Cat fetches her phone and places an order. She must look pretty pathetic, she realizes, because Cat orders Chinese food with an extremely large order of pot stickers. Of all the foods on Earth, she adores the crispy little smile-shaped niblets most. Cat tumbles gracefully onto the couch beside her and complains that she hasn’t chosen a movie yet.

“I thought you might already have one in mind.”

Cat clicks her tongue. “I was going to let you choose.”

“But you do have one.”

“Yes.”

Kara gestures to the screen. “Please. I like when you choose. It feels like you’re sharing something important with me.”

“When you put it that way…” Cat enables the connection between the screen and her laptop, sorts through her extensive collection of films, and makes a rapid decision. “This is a guilty pleasure.”

“Does that mean it’s not good?”

“It means the film is good for the wrong reasons.” Cat hits play and tugs Kara to her side. She strokes her fingers down Kara’s arm.

Kara falls silent as the movie opens on a serene beach, and she watches with a small smile as two obviously smitten people play in the sand and in the water. It’s an interesting way to start a story, she supposes. Not all stories have to start with hurt and pain, after all. She’s glad to see happiness kicking this off. When the blonde woman kisses her studly brunette, Kara tips her head up; Cat gives her what she seeks, and Kara turns her attention back to the movie.

The movie is fun enough, but Kara finds herself most drawn to how Cat sings under her breath during the musical numbers. She wishes Cat would sing a little more loudly, but with her enhanced hearing, the whispered words are sufficient. It’s clear that Cat has watched this many times over the years, as she also mouths along with some of the lines.

“The one thing I don’t understand,” Kara says eventually as the credits roll, “is how any of those actors could be seen as teenagers. They’re clearly much older.”

“You’d be surprised how old you can be and still be in high school.” Cat switches the television back to cable and brings up a television show definitely set in an American grade school. “See? That pretty boy there is thirty-two years old.”

“And he’s supposed to be…?”

“Sixteen.”

Kara peers at him. “Is that what high school students actually look like? Is that why they can act these parts?”

“Not at all.” Cat turns the screen off and leans back. “It sets an impossible standard for young people everywhere, for better or worse.”

“Did you ever try to be like them?”

“Mm, no. I didn’t want to be anybody but myself, but I did look at those television families and wish mine were more like them. My mother was hardly the loving, caring sort of parent who packed sack lunches and saw me off to the bus stop.”

“When I was first told I was going to be sent off planet to look after Kal-El, I looked at my own parents and wondered how I would ever be as good as them. And it’s like, I haven’t just not been a good parent, I’ve just totally failed.”

Cat kisses her again. “You haven’t had the chance. And besides, sacrificing your own well being is sometimes the definition of parenting. You were a great parent when you traded his life for your own.”

Kara isn’t sure if she ought to believe Cat, but she nods anyway and accepts the provided comfort.


	36. The Intergalactic Fighting League

At three thirteen in the morning, Kara bolts out of sleep. The sharp movement of her sitting up jostles Cat but doesn’t fully rouse her, although Kara barely notices anything except the very distant voice crying out. She hesitates a moment to confirm what she’s hearing and then scrambles out of bed, pulls on pair of tossed-aside jeans, and hurriedly jams the window open. All doubts about properly controlling her powers go out the window at the same time she does.

She streaks across the sky, nearly colliding with a wayward seagull and deftly dodging buildings; she clips the corner of one, causing a spray of brick dust to rain down on the empty street below. Following her ears, she finds her target despite not knowing exactly where she needs to be. Rather than waste time entering the building at street-level and trying to find the right floor and door, she barrels through the outer wall.

“What the fuck--”

Ignoring Scott, Kara focuses on Adam, who currently struggles against the iron grip of--Kara takes a step back as her heart and throat clench simultaneously. She never thought she’d have to see the fight organizer again, nor his multi-mouthed translator. The need to accede to them is strong, almost overwhelming, but all she needs in order to snap out of her anxiety-fueled haze is one of Adam’s whimpers.

“I should be asking you that,” she snaps at Scott, her eyes never leaving the aliens that made her life hellish for a decade.

“I can handle this.”

“Leave the boy out of this.” She speaks this time to the organizer, who appraises her. When he smiles, cold fear races down her spine.

“You do have a weakness for them, don’t you? For little boys?”

Her jaw tightens. “You can’t have him.”

“Maybe we won’t have to.” The organizer steps closer and examines the muscle mass of her biceps. “Do you remember our previous agreement?”

“Yes.”

Adam cries out as the translator wrenches his arm. The organizer glances over at Scott and then back to Kara. Kara mimics him, but her gaze comes to rest on Adam rather than herself. Scott is talking, but she can’t hear the words. All she listens to is the panicked voice shouting in her head, screaming contradictions over and over again. She can’t go back to fighting. She can’t let Adam get hurt. She can’t leave Cat. She can’t leave Cat without her son.

“Consider this an updated offer. A sign of forgiveness, if you want. We won’t make you pay for what you caused, if you come back with us.”

“Will you leave Adam out of this?”

The organizer shrugs. “You’re predictable, aren’t you?”

“Did you--are you doing this to get me back?”

“This is just a bonus, believe me.” The organizer tilts his head toward Scott. “When he sold his wife to us, he didn’t tell us that others would come looking for her. Others with the technology to tear our business apart. We’re just here to make sure he knows how… dissatisfied we are with our prior transaction.”

“Then you should know that they won’t stop looking for Adam, too.”

“Oh, we’re not sticking around this system, don’t you worry about that.”

Kara considers. She asks again, “Will you leave Adam out of this?”

“This boy is our repayment. He’s of no concern to you.”

“You’re just trying to hurt Scott, aren’t you?” When the organizer doesn’t reply, Kara assumes this is the truth. “Well, Adam is a human boy. He doesn’t have any enhanced skills or special training. He’ll be a waste of your time and resources. But I know how to hurt Scott, without doing that. And I’ll go with you, if you agree.”

“I’m listening.”

-x-

Cat yawns and stretches. She remembers Kara getting up at some point in the night, probably for a drink of water or to relieve herself, so at first she doesn’t realize the bed is empty and the apartment quiet. She feels the sheets and flinches at how cold they are. Calling out for Kara, she steps into a pair of slippers and wraps a robe tightly around her waist. She shuffles from room to room, but Kara is oddly missing. The chain is still affixed to the door as well.

She notes the window is open and supposes that Kara might have needed some fresh air. She resolves not to worry until lunchtime, when Kara is always home to make a meal. In the meantime, she needs coffee. She enters the kitchen and fills the coffee machine with water and grounds. While she waits for the water to boil, she leans against the counter and soaks in the quiet morning. Life with Kara has had its bumps and obstacles, but she loves how they’ve grown together.

A sharp knock at the door interrupts her thoughts, and she moves to look through the peephole. The sight of Scott grates on her nerves, but she considers this a chance to give him a taste of her real thoughts and feelings. She undoes the chain, unlocks the deadbolt, and opens the door. Her angry dies when she notes Adam lingering a few steps away from his father.

“Scott? Adam? Is everything okay?”

Scott grits his teeth. “I’m here to drop Adam off. I’m giving you full custody.”

She blinks. “What.”

“I’m giving you full custody. Don’t make me say it again.” Spittle leaves his lips as he slaps her in the face with his words.

Full custody.

She looks to Adam, who has a bright red nose and snot tracks along his upper lip. Kneeling, she draws him into a hug. “Adam, are you okay? Is this what you want?”

He hiccups and clutches at her. “Mommy…”

Scott gestures to his left, where a pile of Adam’s belongings are stacked. “Here are all his things. I hope you’re ready for this, Cat, because I can’t take him back.”

Without further explanation, he leaves, and Cat lifts Adam onto her hip. Atop the pile of stuff is a signed document releasing his rights as a father and legally turning all parental rights and responsibilities over to her. There’s a space for her signature on one page. She kisses the crown of Adam’s head and brings him inside. She doesn’t have much food suitable for a child, so she sets him in front of the television to watch a few cartoons while she makes him scrambled eggs. 

As he eats, she hauls his stuff inside and shuts the door once more. With Adam occupied, she sits at the table and reads through the pages. None of this makes any sense, and Kara isn’t here--and that suddenly seems like valid cause for concern. She pages through the documents, snaps pictures of everything, and sends the photographs to her lawyer. With his consent, she’ll sign and make it official.

She eventually realizes that Adam isn’t watching his cartoons, and his eggs sit half-eaten on the plate in front of him. This is reminder enough that he’s not just a pawn to toss back and forth in their personal feud. She sits beside him and tugs him to her side. He nestles against her, eyes red-rimmed and filling with tears.

“Adam, sweetheart, do you think you can tell me what happened?”

He shakes his head, and any attempt at talking turns into a sniveling mess of unintelligible mumbling. Cat resigns herself to the fact that it may take a while until he’s comfortable expressing himself. When he falls asleep in her lap, she lifts him and carries him to bed. Tucking the covers around him, she struggles with the sudden pleasure of having him in her home again and the anxiety weighing down her stomach and chest.

She checks her phone, but there’s no contact from Kara. Sighing, she calls Scott. As much as she hates interacting with him, he’s the only one who knows what’s going on; he answers with a sharp, “What?”

“You need to tell me what happened.”

“It isn’t enough you have our son? You have to do this?”

“I need to know why.”

He’s silent for several minutes, and all she hears is his wheezing breaths. “A deal was made.”

She recognizes his use of passive structure for what it is: deflection. “By whom and about what?”

“Damn it, Cat. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

“I wasn’t supposed to come back,” she hisses. “I know you arranged that horrifying epoch of my life. I can’t prove it, but I know.”

“I meant last night.” He doesn’t bother denying her claim, but without a confession, she still feels helpless. Before she can question him further, he says, “They came back, pissed that you got them shut down. They were going to take Adam, but that girl of yours showed up and went with them instead.”

Breathing becomes nigh impossible in the span of half a second. Cat drops the phone and then falls to her knees. Kara’s gone again, and history is repeating itself. Tears dribble down her cheeks as she realizes what Kara’s sacrifice means: Adam is worth enough to trade her freedom for. Adam is as much family as her blood.


	37. Appropriate Allocation of Resources

“It’s my fault,” Adam murmurs over dinner, his head bowed and his eyes ever moist. He barely touches his carrots, usually his favorite vegetable. He’s been morose all day, and Cat can empathize. She can’t, however, agree with or support his misconception.

“Darling, you did nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”

“I did too. She traded her for me.”

“That was her choice,” she soothes. “If you want to feel upset at someone, be upset at the people that took her. They were the ones who made her choose in the first place.”

“I guess…”

He’s like Kara. She wishes there were something she could say to help truly lift his spirits, but he’s got that notion tightly lodged in his mind. He got that stubborn streak from her, so she tries not to complain about it too much. Truthfully, she’s proud he stands up for himself, even when doing so is detrimental. He’s strong, and he will survive this--and she’ll be right there with him to act as a support.

“We’re going to get Kara back, anyway.”

This makes him lift his gaze, and she spots a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes. I have some phone calls to make in the morning, and we’ll be ready to start searching. She’s out there, and as long as we’re able, we’ll look for her.”

He nods. “Did Daddy mean it when he said I can’t go back?”

“If you want to see your father, I’m not going to stop you. He’s… he’s done some things that have put other people in danger, but I don’t doubt that he loves you. I don’t think it’s safe for you to live with him, but you can visit whenever you like.”

“Okay.”

“Now, come on. Eat those carrots, before the rabbits sneak in to take them from you.”

Finally, a smile peeks out, and she breathes a sigh of relief. Her little boy is still in there, under the hurt and uncertainty.

-x-

Kara sits on the bench, her hands fisted in her lap. They haven’t bothered with manacles, as part of the deal for leaving Adam alone is that she doesn’t fight or struggle. She will sit quietly during transport and resume her duties without a fuss. Of course, they might not settle in a system with a yellow sun, so she knows her chances of survival are slim. Still, she doesn’t regret her decision. As long as Cat is alive with her son at her side, Kara can endure most anything.

She wonders if she’s failing at being a girlfriend as well as parent, but her thoughts remind her of Cat’s words from after the movie. Putting the needs of others before her own is good parenting, so perhaps it’s good partnering as well. She’s not sure, but she has plenty of time to think about it. They haven’t even left Earth, yet, which means they’re even farther from their final destination than they could have been.

She wonders why they haven’t left.

She won’t ask, of course, because doing so would be inviting punishment. She can’t do anything to endanger Adam--at least not until they’re light years away. Then, if she feels up to it, she’ll instigate a bit of rebellion. Not enough to make them kill her, but just enough to assert that she’s still her own person. They may have her back under their control, but she is no longer the subdued creature that bowed to authority and took her beatings without a struggle.

A guard enters her room and motions for her to stand. She follows him through the belly of the ship to a medical bay. She feels a resurgence of her old docile nature, but she bites her lower lip hard and pictures Cat. When she sticks out her arm and braces for the bite of the blade, she does so with a firm glare at the doctor, who seems to wilt under her appraisal. The blade bends against her skin, and she can’t fight the pleased grin that overtakes her features.

They don’t have the same technology anymore, she realizes. They don’t possess the green glow that weakens her. They can’t breech her skin or break her bones. More importantly, they can’t destroy her spirit. The doctor talks to his single nurse, casting sidelong glances at her until the guard eventually grabs her arm and forcibly marches her back to her room. She feels his grip, but it doesn’t hurt. It won’t, unless they leave the yellow sun’s system.

Alone in her room, she closes her eyes and focuses on her hearing. They’re too far from National City for her to be able to hone in on Cat’s voice or heartbeat, but she finds solace in the thrum of activity--of humanity--that still fills the silence around her. She’ll find a way out of this.

-x-

“Lane, you have to act on this.”

He sighs, heavy and long. “I don’t have the resources.”

“She’s one of your assets, isn’t she?” Cat drums her fingers atop the counter. “She’s your responsibility--”

“She was classified as a temporary asset, but no purpose for her was ever established. As far as the U.S. government is concerned, expending any more resources on her is a waste. The tax payers--”

“The taxpayers--” she cuts him off with a sharp, barking laugh. “I bet they’re all so pleased with the money spent on military actions and bailouts.”

“It’s out of my control.”

“Sure.”

She hangs up on him not long after. She should know by now that no governing body is ever situated to help those truly in need. If she wants assistance, she’ll need to reach out to those in the public sector. Pulling up her computer, she runs down a list of possibilities and narrows her choices down to two: Prince Industries or Wayne Incorporated. Both are known to be quite charitable, although she’s not sure her endeavor will appeal to either of them. Using a bit of tech-savvy that she really shouldn’t possess, she finds the personal e-mail addresses for the CEOs and writes two messages.

She appeals to Ms. Prince’s penchant for charities based on gender discrimination--certainly, she would feel empathy for a kidnapped young woman trafficked into brutal combat and forced labor. As for Mr. Wayne, she tells the story of Kara’s lost family--specifically her deceased parents--and pleads with him to help a stolen orphan. She’s not proud of trying to manipulate them with such targeted messages, but she cannot let Kara slip through her fingers.

By the time she reaches work, there’s a message in her inbox from bruce@wayne.org. She sits at her desk in the bullpen, glances surreptitiously around, and then opens the message. Trepidation makes her palms sweat until she forces herself to read every word. Her mouth has gone dry by the sign-off, and she can hardly believe that Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, is willing to fund not only a search but will give her access to his research and development department in case some form of space transportation becomes necessary.

A moment later, an e-mail from Diana Prince states much of the same. Hers mentions that she’s contacted Wayne, and Cat tries to keep her mind from going fuzzy with the sudden onslaught of hope. There’s a number listed in both e-mails, so she dials the first and waits. He immediately insists she call him Bruce, which feels very strange. She knows she’s just as good as him, but she’s not prepared for him to recognize such.

“Bruce, this is a time-sensitive matter.”

“I’m familiar. Very clever pulling my parents into your inquiry.”

She manages a half-smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, of course not.” He clears his throat, but the noise sounds suspiciously like a chuckle. “I’m interested to hear what you have in mind. Your message was brief, to the point.”

“You’re a busy man.”

“I am.” There’s enough inflection in his voice to make the statement sound like a question, but Cat doesn’t want to answer.

“As you read, aliens have abducted Kara Danvers in order to have her fight in an illegal combat ring. My contact within the army tells me there’s nothing the government can do to help me because she’s--she’s not an American citizen. I need help locating where they took her, a means of getting there, and assistance rescuing her.”

“That’s a tall order.”

“If you want to back out, I’ll contact Ms. Prince--”

“No, Diana and I are in agreement. This is just the sort of thing we’ve been meaning to invest in.”

“Search and rescue?”

There’s something light and almost excited in his voice--childlike despite the hardship of his life. “Space travel.”

“Oh.”

“Not to mention, we want to set an example. Other species can’t be allowed to come to Earth and steal our people without consequence, don’t you think?”

She doubts he cares about much more than his own ego and goals, but insulting him now would be counterproductive. He likely knows that his public persona is that of a flippant philanthropist who believes that all problems can be solved with money. She supposes that’s why she contacted him in the first place, so she won’t look a gift billionaire in the mouth.


	38. Messages from Home

Cat has never had a problem with her apartment. Yes, it’s a bit small, but it’s sufficient for Adam to grow in for now. The rent is reasonable, and she can walk to work without much of a problem. Plus, she keeps the place generally tidy. She hasn’t had time to sort through Adam’s belongings, so they’re still sprawled along the floor, but everything else has been dusted, swept, or vacuumed. Despite all of this, she still feels inferior when Bruce Wayne and Diana Prince walk into her home and appraise their surroundings. She hates feeling inferior, so she straightens her back and tilts her head up.

“If you’re done looking at the decorations, would you mind telling me why you’re here?”

Diana looks at her first, and she has to pause to remind herself to breathe. Dark hair cut billows around her face and drapes along her shoulders, while the woman’s pantsuit fits snugly, even in the shoulders. It must be perfectly tailored to her measurements, Cat realizes; she wishes she could do the same, but it’s just not feasible on her salary. Diana smiles, spreading dark, thin lips across her tanned skin. Still, she’s no Kara.

“Thank you for having us in your home. We apologize for the intrusion, of course, but this seemed like the easiest means of collaborating.” Bruce snags her hand and tugs it to his lips for a kiss. She withholds the almost overpowering urge to roll her eyes.

She delicately yanks her hand free and gestures to the kitchen table. Bruce’s eyes shift over to the closed door just down the hallway, but she refuses to confirm that Adam is safely ensconced in his bed, away from this discussion. She doesn’t think either visitor will hurt him, but she’s still concerned about his mental state regarding Kara’s kidnapping.

“We need the details of what happened,” Diana says, drawing her attention back to the moment.

She doesn’t trust them yet, so she simply deigns to explain the simplest version of the facts: “There’s an organization out in space that runs illegal--at least by Earth standards--fights. I was kidnapped a short while ago, to be used as a companion for a fighter. Luckily, I was able to get a signal out to the military, and they came to my rescue. On my return, I took in Kara Danvers. Shortly after, it became apparent that my ex-husband had struck a deal with this organization. I’m not clear on exactly what they gave in return for my life.”

“Has he been dealt with?”

Cat can’t waste time delving into unrelated issues; whether Scott faces justice or roams free is something to deal with later--once Kara is home safely. “When I was rescued, our military caused horrible damage to their ship. They blamed my husband for ruining their operation by giving me to them. They were going to take my son, but Kara sacrificed herself instead.”

“Why would they want your son?”

“They wanted to train him up to fight.” She imagines what Kara must have gone through when she was not much older than him. Her fists tremble in her lap. “The only life he’d know would have been combat.”

“And they accepted Kara in exchange for your son.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Underneath Diana’s smile was a bit of iron, and Cat stiffened in response. Were they here to help or simply grill her about unimportant matters?

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“She’s an alien,” Bruce said. “Don’t deny it. I had my people look into her background.”

Cat grimaces. Of course the supposedly secure government would be sloppy enough to leave a trail. “Fine. Yes, she’s an alien.”

Diana leans back. “I presume Kara was with you on the ship before.”

“Yes.” There’s no point in lying anymore. Perhaps having them in the know will make this whole process faster and easier. She doubts the former, given the speed of this conversation.

“I have a ship in development. It’s currently outfitted for a team of scientists, but changes could be made.” Bruce rubs his chin. “Of course, I wouldn’t want the world to think I’m building battle ships, so we’d need to be subtle.”

“You? Subtle?” Diana laughs. “Impossible. You have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Can we focus?” Cat snaps. “Every minute we waste, she could be getting farther and farther away.”

Diana shakes her head. “I have it on good authority that there’s a foreign space vessel lingering in the airspace over Kenya. It’s cloaked, but our sensors were still able to pick up its electronic emissions.”

“They’re still here?” Cat can’t fathom what would keep them so close.

“There’s a healthy trade there of items smuggled out of Wakanda,” Bruce answers. “It’s possible they’re seeking something to either repair their ship or fuel it.”

“That gives us time, but we won’t know how much. How near is your ship to completion?”

“Could be months.”

Cat zones out while they talk, her mind racing. She’d been drowsy, but she seems to recall that Clark mentioned he arrived with some alien technology or something. While nobody speaks the language, maybe one of these two could put together an algorithm for translation. There might be some useful information in there about space travel. She leaves them to talk to one another and ducks into her bedroom to call Jeremiah. He’s busy with the baby, but he does remember something about Clark’s ship and the information packets within. He gives her the Kent’s number, and she places her next call.

-x-

Adam plays in the corn fields with Clark, just near enough for Cat to keep an eye on them. Clark’s ship sits just inside the barn, which strikes her as unusual. When she asks Martha why the government hasn’t taken it from them, Martha just shrugs. The ship is Clark’s, and they wouldn’t let anything happen to it until he’s of age to make his own decisions. Besides, while certain sects of the government are aware of his presence, none have stepped forward to cause problems.

“I doubt any part of the government wants to take on that sort of negative publicity,” she confides. “He’s just a boy, for one, and he’s made a lot of friends around town. There’s just something special about him. We’d all raise quite the fuss if he went missing.”

Cat knows a little something about how captivating an alien can be, so she just nods agreeably. “Child abduction does tend to reflect poorly on those in charge.”

“Doesn’t always stop them, though, does it?”

She wonders how Scott felt as he stood in front of aliens taking their son. She wonders if he was upset or just grateful that he wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of his own consequences. If she is ever willing to talk to him again, she might ask--although she’s afraid of his answer. In fact, if she really thinks about it, Kara’s absence is answer enough: He wasn’t willing to exchange his life for Adam’s, whereas Kara, a relative stranger, did so in a heartbeat.

“You okay?”

She smiles at Martha and gestures to the barn, where Diana and Bruce examine the ship. “I ought to go help.”

“Of course. You need anything, you holler.”

In the barn, Diana inspects the ship’s design while Bruce sits by the central console. Even after a decade or so, the internal computer is functional, and Bruce seems to be searching for an input. Cat leans against the exterior and waits for one of them to say something. Finally, Bruce pops a compartment and sits back smugly.

“Give me three hours, and I’ll have something put together to connect to the mainframe. I’ll be able to load the translation software that way, and we’ll get some answers.” He glances over at Cat. “I hope this is going to help.”

“It will,” she promises, even though she’s as unsure as he is. If it doesn’t, then she’s just led them down a time-consuming but ultimately fruitless prong in this maze toward finding Kara. She crosses her fingers and settles in for a long day.

-x-

The lights change at seemingly random intervals, but Kara knows better than to assume it’s merely to disorient her. This is intentional, to better acclimate her to the satellite’s version of day and night. Unlike the first time she went through this training, she’s aware of what’s happening and fights back. They might turn the lights off to make her think it’s night and time to sleep, but she can focus her gaze into the outside world and see the sun, can listen to the flurry of people down below as they attend to business during the day. She can hear the thump and pump of music in night clubs when dusk hits, the gentle snores of midnight.

Generally speaking, it would likely be better for her to acclimate without issue. If she’s going to stay alive long enough to escape again, she’ll need strength and energy, which she may not have if she insists on sticking to Earthly timetables. Still, if she sleeps on her own pattern, she feels more in control. It’s only through this method that she’s aware of the five days that pass. And still, they haven’t left.

The only reason she can think of is that the ship isn’t capable of leaving as of yet. The organizer’s visit to Earth might not have been solely to harass Scott, but to collect equipment and technology. She hopes that whatever they’re after will not negatively impact the galaxy--but she has low hopes, considering who her captors are.

-x-

“There we go.” Bruce presses a few buttons on the console and proudly waits for the program to function. “Just so you know, there’s nobody on the planet who could have come up with a solution faster.”

Diana laughs. “You certainly are humble.”

Cat rolls her eyes. “Can you just get on with it?”

Without further ado, Bruce activates the translation. Half an hour ticks by as the program sorts, categorizes, and establishes patterns. Finally, a robotic voice interrupts the quiet.

“Kal-El, we hope this message finds you well and safe. We are sorry we could not be there with you.”

Irrelevant, Cat wants to scream. Instead, she tries to be patient.

“We have sent you away to protect you from the imminent death of our planet. You will not be alone, Kal-El. You will have your cousin watching over you. When you are old enough to understand, Kara will teach you the ways of your home. Stay safe, Kal-El. We love you.”

“Kara,” Cat whispers. She tightens her jaw as she realizes that Kara’s lost relative has been under their nose since Alex’s birth--and now, Kara isn’t around to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Wakanda isn't DC. Suck it.


	39. Adam or the World

The food is tasteless, as expected, but she’s not going to turn her nose up at the calories. She eats several bars in one go and gulps several drippers. Even without the sun’s direct glow, she feels powerful. If she didn’t think it would put Adam at risk, she’d break free and never look back. This powerful feeling helps her focus on what matters. While she has it, she’s going to plan her rebellion thoroughly, as she’s not sure she’ll have the energy once the fighting starts up again.

Thinking of the fighting guides her mind to a new matter she hasn’t considered: Will they give her a new companion? After the trouble with Cat, they might deem her too dangerous for social interaction. They might isolate her. That would be the worst part of all of this--she’s grown too used to people talking to her, caring about her, touching her arms and shoulders. To have that removed will definitely be a hit to her stamina.

There’s a commotion in the hall, and she narrows her vision to watch the guards manhandling a young boy into the room beside her. He fights but ultimately can’t overpower his larger captors. When they shut the door and lock him in, he throws himself bodily against the barrier, slamming his fists and hollering in a language she doesn’t understand. Finally, he spits on the door and skulks to the other side of the small room.

Curious, she presses the tip of her pointer finger into the wall separating their rooms. It gives way easily under her sun-gifted powers, and soon, there’s a small hole she can either peek through or talk into. She peeks first and takes in his dark skin, downcast eyes, and wiry hair. His arms are lanky, elbows jutting out as he curls his arms around his knees. Surely, they didn’t pick him up for fighting. At least, she hopes not. Unless he has inhuman skills, he’ll get torn apart in the ring. She lowers her mouth.

“Do you speak English?” For a moment, the boy doesn’t move. She repeats herself, and his eyes drift over to the hole. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he replies, crawling to the hole on his hands and knees. “Where is this?”

She’s not certain he’ll believe a story about aliens, no matter how true, so she stretches the truth. “We’re on a ship, waiting to get taken away. How did you get here?”

He sits sullenly for a moment but replies, “They promised my family wealth.”

“Your family sold you?”

He shakes his head. “I offered. My younger brother will go to college now.”

“You fought against being put in this room.”

“I gave them my life but not my cooperation.”

She smiles, already taking a strong liking to this boy. “How old are you?”

“Ten.”

Her cousin’s age, she thinks grimly. She’s going to get him out, even if she has to stay herself. “I’m working on a plan to free you. You won’t have to leave your home.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I made a deal. If I return, they will withdraw their support.”

Kara frowns. “So, they don’t just take people?”

“Word spread about space traders, willing to pay high prices for volunteers.”

She grits her teeth, angry that the IFL would abuse people in need for their own ends. Then again, even those better off would be tempted--as evidenced by Scott’s deal for Cat’s life. She wonders how much money he got from the deal; plenty, if his legal team and connections with the judiciary system were anything to judge by. Grimacing, she fights the urge to burst free from captivity and strike Scott down. Cat’s life is not his to sell.

At least Adam is with Cat now, she reasons as she settles back against the wall. The fury bleeds out of her with each breath.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Kara. And you?”

“Timothy.”

Over the next few days, her conversations with Timothy help ground her resolve not to act until Adam is safely far, far away. For now, she can focus on helping Timothy survive the harsh new environment he’s found himself in. She laughs when he splutters through the first of his energy bars and tells him how she starved herself at first because she couldn’t bear the taste. He tells her about his brother, and she mentions she’s lost her cousin.

Finally, the ship rumbles to life, and Kara prepares to bid goodbye to the Earth.

-x-

“You were right,” Diana admits. Before her on the table lie hastily sketched blueprints and rapidly scribbled equations, all based on the Kryptonian information packets. Bruce stands beside her, with one hand on another man’s shoulder. Cat should have paid more attention when they were introduced, but she’s been so single-minded lately.

“It will work,” the man insists. “I’m always right.”

Bruce offers a cocksure smile. “That’s why I brought you in, Mr. Fox.”

“Yes, let’s all celebrate right now, before any of the real work is completed.”

Thankfully, the small group understands Cat’s frustration and doesn’t comment. Diana touches her shoulder for a moment, just long enough to make eye contact and smile. Then, they split off--Diana and Fox to handle the manufacturing of the parts they need and Bruce to put a small dent in his personal fortune. Cat still can’t believe that any of these people are willing to help her, especially knowing that she can give nothing back.

This amazement stays with her through the construction process, onward until she’s standing in front of a small machine with compact engines and sky-colored camouflage. There’s space for one person in the cockpit and two in the back. Cat tries to insist that she deserves one of those spots, but Diana stands in her way--and Diana’s size is misleading; she’s built like some sort of tank, and Cat can’t budge her.

“We will bring your Kara home,” she promises. “But your part is done.”

And so, she sits at home with Adam in her lap and waits for a phone call that feels like it will never come. Adam fidgets, picking up on her nervous energy, and she diverts her attention for his sake. They spend three hours building with Legos, and she makes sure to tell him how proud she is of his awkwardly shaped car. He explains what each part does, and she praises his ingenuity. He can’t pronounce it, so she clarifies.

“Your ability to solve problems. Your creativity, cleverness.”

He stumbles over the word again. She guides him syllable by syllable until he can say it just right: “Ingenuity.”

“That’s a big word for such a little boy.”

He beams. “I know a even bigger one.”

“What’s that?”

“Zrhueiao,” he says, sounding like he’s got pebbles in his mouth.

“I’ve never heard that before.”

“Kara teached me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. She said it about you.”

“What does it mean?”

“Beautiful.”

She kisses his head and tries not to think anymore about their missing family member. Soon, they’ll all be together again, and maybe Kara can say it to her face. Maybe Kara can teach them both more of her native tongue, and Cat can feel closer to Kara’s heart.

-x-

Despite the rumbling of the engine, Kara notes that the ship isn’t actually moving anywhere. She focuses her hearing and pinpoints that the noise doesn’t originate in the engines--but in the weapons system. There are missiles shifting, lowering to their ports. She whispers into the hole that Timothy should stay put and then moves to her own door. The corridor is empty, so she uses a touch of strength to pry the door open. They will not fire at her new planet, not if she has the means to stop them from wreaking more havoc.

She uses her x-ray vision to choose the quickest route to the lower levels of the ship, where all the weaponry awaits deployment and detonation. All personnel on the ship seem to be busy, and she encounters nobody in her trip down. She moves quickly from bomb to bomb and renders them ineffective with a few blasts of her eye lasers. The ones that are already loaded, however, are beyond her reach. They fire, and the ship rocks, knocking her momentarily off balance. If she returns to her room now, they might not pin this on her. Adam will be safe.

But what good will Adam’s safety do if hundreds of people die in this attack? In either event, she won’t be able to live with herself. There’s no real decision at hand here; she punches through the bottom of the ship and plummets into the air. Spotting the exhaust from one of the rockets, she zips forward, in hot pursuit. She doesn’t notice the agile ship darting around the IFL’s until she’s grabbed the tail of the missile and forced the nose upward into space, where it can finish its journey without human casualty.

Then, she hovers in the air and watches the smaller vessel send out contained shots that explode the remaining armed missiles mid-air before issuing a loud message, audible all the way to Rao, she’s sure.

“Stand down now, or we will open fire.”

Kara waits, breath bated. The moments that tick by seem impossibly long. And then the IFL fires.


	40. No Right Choice

Kara dodges a few wayward blasts as she careens back to the hole she made in the ship. This mystery ship apparently has the exterior onslaught handled--so she’ll have to give the IFL hell from the inside. They’ll have their hands busy with whoever is piloting the other ship, so she decides the best recourse is to start emptying out their holding chambers. One by one, she busts down doors and snags people around the middle; she punches through the nearest exterior wall and floats them down to safety. The last room she hits is Timothy’s, but he doesn’t resist as she transports them to safety.

He hugs her tightly before allowing her to lift off again. In the few moments it takes, she notices how many cellphones are lifted and pointing in her direction. They’re recording her. She isn’t sure if this will be a problem, but she has enough to do as it is--she can’t stop and ask them politely to delete those files. Instead, if she’s going to be documented, she decides she might as well make a positive impression. She smiles, waves, and zips back into the sky.

When she flies now, with no passengers, she flies quickly. Her body wobbles as she turns to try and catch up with the battling ships, and she swerves too far to the side. A straight line is easy, but turning mid-air looks like it will be a problem. She’ll need control, which is luckily a skill she’s developed. Calming her mind and pretending as though she’s kneeling in her quarters in meditation, she breaths slow and long. She feels the wind buffeting her body and measures the pressure. Testing her strength, she gradually finds the right angle and speed to handle the rougher patches, and with this discovery, she makes it to the alien vessel.

Focusing her eyes, she finds most of the crew running about wildly with no sense of purpose or direction. She can smell the foul stench of burning grease, and she hears the crunch and grind of gears straining. This ship isn’t going to last long, and she wonders if she ought to stop the fight and the inevitable loss of life. She ought to, morally speaking. She doesn’t want more people to die, even if they are creatures that have made horrible decisions.

Yet, she can’t bring herself to interrupt the battle. She feels awful that deep down in her heart, she wants these aliens to suffer, to feel every bit of pain they inflicted on her. This impulse worries her. Is she truly that cruel? Has her heart truly been darkened that much? She doesn’t enjoy the self-satisfaction that comes from watching that unknown ship tearing the IFL’s to pieces.

A final blast lands hard, and the mechanism cloaking the vessel from those below fails. At the same time, their thrusters fail as well, and the ship twists into a tailspin toward the ground. Now, she moves. She flies as fast as she dares and scoops underneath the battered belly and bears its weight toward the ground. Slowing its speed is difficult, but by the time her toes reach the ground, she’s only moving a few miles per hour.

She tosses the ship onto a patch of unoccupied dirt and tries not to feel too enthusiastic about the crunch and squeal of metal or the rumble of the earth on impact. The hatch pops open, letting a burst of smoke billow into the air, and then a parade of bruised and bleeding aliens crawl out. They gasp for clean air, some choking on Earth’s atmosphere and dying before Kara can move to help them. A stab of misery jabs into her gut as she realizes that her unwillingness to step in has cost several beings their life. She wants justice. Real justice, not the sort that those in power dole out as long as it’s in line with their own agenda.

She’s denied them a chance at redemption and their victims the opportunity for closure. Clenching her hands into fists, she stands and trembles and hates herself.

The other ship lowers gracefully a few yards away, and a door slides open to allow two figures to exit. One is a tall woman, the other a burly man. She's not sure what to make of them, as they all but destroyed the ship without having a plan to avoid a crash--but they also helped save her. They look at her from afar and murmur to each other.

“That’s the girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It must be.”

“You’ll let Cat know?”

“Of course.”

Kara relaxes, no longer fearing who these people are or what they might want. If they’re with Cat, then she already knows she can trust them. She strides over and extends her hand. The woman catches her grip tightly and smiles beatifically at her.

“Kara Danvers.”

“Yes.”

“Diana Prince. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Is Cat okay?”

If she’s surprised Kara knows she’s connected to Cat, Diana doesn’t show it. “She’s fine. She has Adam at home, and my colleague is updating them as to your safety.”

Kara glances at the man dressed in mostly black. “Thank you both for coming, if not for me, but on behalf of the others you saved.”

“From where we were sitting, it looked like you did more of the saving than we did.”

Shrugging, Kara turns back to the wreckage. A few of the aliens have recovered enough to sit up, but almost none are standing yet. There’s only one with stable legs, and Kara feels her fury rising in her stomach--the organizer stares back at her, remorseless--or so it seems to her. She flings herself forward, determined to keep him from hurting anyone else, but Diana catches her wrist. She’s baffled to discover that she can’t pull free. 

She turns her head and meets Diana’s clear, firm gaze. “How…?”

“I won’t stop you again. If you’d like, you may go and kill him.” Diana drops her arm and waits. “However, from what Cat has told us, I don’t think that will sit well with you when you try to sleep tonight.”

“I’m just so… so angry.”

“You’re allowed to be. But don’t let it cloud your judgment. Anger can be a tool, as long as you control it instead of the other way around.”

Kara sucks in several deep breaths. “What will happen to them?”

“That depends on them.” Diana squeezes Kara’s shoulder as she walks by. She approaches the organizer and pulls a length of golden rope from where its coiled on her belt. Kara hadn’t noticed it before, which she blames on the cacophony of noises, thoughts, and stresses flooding between her ears.

Diana’s going to tie them up, she guesses at first, but no. The rope is looped around their hands loosely. Diana asks him if he can understand her, and Kara hurries to where to translator is still gasping for breath on the ground. She lugs him up and over.

“He can translate into all languages.”

Diana nods. “Very well. If we let you free, will you resume your illegal activities?”

The rope glows, which must be some trick of the light, and the organizer grits out an answer. The translator clears the smog from his lungs, sending up little puffs of dirty air from several of his many mouths.

“No.”

Diana moves from person to person, with Kara dragging the translator along; depending on their answers, she either shoves them toward the organizer or shoos them toward her ship. Finally, she returns to the small group of nay-sayers and appraises them.

“You have chosen to continue a lifestyle of hurting others. We cannot let you go free. Soon, you will be transported into holding, where you will await a fair trial per the judiciary system of the United States of America. Anything you say or do can be used as part of your trial. I thank you for your cooperation.”


	41. Going Home

Kara waits while Diana and Bruce deal with the local fallout and clean up. She offered to help, but they had declined, citing her obvious need to recover and process everything. Although she feels perfectly capable of clearing debris, she doesn’t resist. She sits in the ship, eyes closed as the air conditioning blasts down on her, and does as she’s told. Her mind races from topic to topic too quickly for her to form any conclusions, but she appreciates the quiet moments to try.

She’s going home to Cat. Or is she? She doesn’t know how Cat will respond to her now that she’s made a decision to leave. At the end of the day, she knows that she will always sacrifice herself to save other people, and Cat may never understand that impulse. In this case, she suspects she’s in the clear, given that she traded her life for Adam’s--and Adam will forever come first for both of them. But in the future, Cat may not understand why she throws herself into danger for strangers.

All she knows now is that she likes helping people. She is still thrumming with the adrenaline that came from rescuing prisoners and catching the ship before a deadly crash. She has these powers here, and she has an actual chance to make life better for people in need. She can make sure nobody goes through what she went through, and not even Cat will be able to stop her. 

“Kara?”

She opens her eyes and shifts sideways to watch Bruce enter the central corridor. He’s charming and handsome, but she sees something in his eyes that feels awfully familiar. She wonders what part of his world he’s lost, but she’s not nearly rude enough to ask.

“Hm?”

“We’re just finishing up. There’s a boy here who wants to talk to you before we go.”

She unfurls from the ground, stretching her stiff limbs and rubbing her joints to get her blood flowing again. As she steps back out into the sunshine, she lifts a hand in greeting. “Timothy.”

His eyes are hungry, but Kara isn’t sure what she has to feed him. “I want to go with you.”

“I don’t…”

“I may not be able to fly, but I’m smart. Give me a chance, and I can help you.”

“I’m not really in a position--What I mean is, I live with two other people in a small apartment.” She fumbles to explain herself, explain that she’s sure he’s valuable but she just doesn’t have space or time. She’s just starting to figure out her purpose and her place, and she doesn’t feel remotely in the right place to help guide someone else.

His eyes drop. “I see.”

“I have space.”

Kara hadn’t been aware that Bruce was listening, but she’s glad to hear his offer. Timothy, too, looks intrigued, if not entirely sold on the notion. Bruce takes Timothy aside, and Kara decides to respect their privacy by not eavesdropping. Instead, she seeks out Diana, who stands with a group of small girls gathered around her legs.

“Lift me next!”

“No, me!”

Smiling, Kara watches Diana flex her arms; a girl dangles from each bicep, laughing and kicking for the ground. One girl spots her and darts over, begging to be taken for a flight. Not seeing the harm, Kara scoops her up and hovers six or so feet in the air before flying in a tight circle around the ship. The girl screams with excitement most of the way through, her hands tightly latched to Kara’s shirt.

“Are you a superhero?” she asks, once they’re grounded again. “Like Wonder Woman? And Batman?”

“Not yet, I don’t think. Maybe? I… I think I might like to be.”

The girl hugs her and frolics away, but the sight of their flight has attracted the gaggle of children her way. Diana grins at her, and she sets about providing a ride for every child. Finally, when they start queuing for another round, she apologizes and yawns, as if she’s exhausted. While not truly tired, she is growing anxious for the coming reunion with Cat--when she’ll have to explain her choices--past, present, and future.

“Don’t worry,” Diana whispers as they board the ship. “She’s been nothing but worried about you.”

That’s part of the problem, Kara realizes. She can’t make Cat’s life any tougher than it already is, and she’s terrified her desire to save the world will impede Cat’s security and quality of life. Despite her energy, she manages to sleep through the flight back to National City; Timothy dozes on her lap.

-x-

They stand a distance apart, neither moving or speaking. Kara doesn’t feel like she deserves to break the standoff first, given that she caused the trauma that incited this awkward moment. She has a lot she’d like to say, but she can wait until Cat is ready to hear it.

“You’re back,” Cat finally says, although her tone belies her otherwise calm disposition. “I thought it would be sooner.”

“Diana and Bruce, they wanted to talk to me.”

“Hm.”

Kara shifts uncomfortably. “They said they won’t tell anyone I’m an alien, but they want me to help them.”

Cat takes a step forward, her hand shifting up but hesitating. “In Gotham?”

“Sometimes. Not always.”

“You’re… you’re here to say goodbye then, I suppose.” Cat’s posture stiffens, and she glares down her nose. “You should go.”

Kara frowns. “I told them I couldn’t leave National City. I can’t leave you, or Adam. This--You are home.”

Anxiety bleeds away from Cat, and she closes the distance between them. She cups Kara’s cheeks and stares directly into Kara’s eyes. “You aren’t allowed to scare me like that. It’s illegal.”

“I might be new to this planet, but I think that’s not true.”

“I’ll write my senator.”

Kara laughs. “I’m sure they’d drop everything to--”

Cat interrupts her with a kiss, and Kara immediately responds, settling her hands on Cat’s hips and sinking under Cat’s control. Allowing Cat to guide her has become second-nature, and Kara feels secure for the first time since her second imprisonment. When she draws back, she notes the tears in Cat’s eyes but wisely doesn’t mention them.

“So what do Batman and Wonder Woman want with you?”

“Wh-what? How do you know who they are?”

Favoring Kara with an unimpressed deadpan look, Cat replies, “I have eyes, Kara. Besides, Bruce is hardly hiding. Just ask him, and he’ll tell you to your face that he’s Batman. And Diana? There are very few woman like her on Earth.”

“They’re trying to form a group of superheroes, just in case something big and bad happens to the planet. Like the IFL but worse, I guess. They said the number of aliens landing on Earth has increased in the past few years, and they’re worried that not everyone with Earth on their star chart will have good intentions.”

“So, what? You’re going to join up with this--this League of Do-Gooders? Hm, no. Too much of a mouthful.” Cat twitches her lips. “This Justice League?”

“I told them I’d think about it. Right now, though, I just want us to be okay. I’m not going to be able to stop helping people, and I need you to understand that. I can’t be safe and let people get hurt.”

Cat tugs her close again. “And that’s precisely why I love you.”


	42. El Mayarah

They sit in the car for several minutes, and Kara stares up at the farmhouse with unreadable eyes. Cat isn’t sure she’s made the correct decision in bringing Kara here so soon after everything that’s happened, but she couldn’t keep Kara in the dark about her cousin. The decision needs to be Kara’s, even if Kara hesitates or hurts or wishes for someone else to choose for her. Cat can only place her hand on Kara’s thigh and squeeze gently, a silent show of support.

“He’s in there,” Kara whispers. “And he knows about me?”

“We haven’t told him, yet. His parents know, but I convinced them you needed to be found first, and then that it wasn’t fair to you if he found out while you still didn’t know.”

“Oh.”

“If you want to turn around and go home, then he won’t know any better. Your decision here, it won’t hurt anyone.”

“But me, you mean.”

Cat shrugs. “I’d like to think you’d make a decision you could live with.”

“I can live with a lot.”

Cat doesn’t bother agreeing, since they both know how much Kara can take, although the outer limits have never been tested. “But do you want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you scared?”

“I sent him here to grow up alone. I abandoned him.”

“You saved his life.”

“It’s only luck that he was adopted by a caring family. He could have ended up much worse.”

“But he didn’t.”

Kara closes her eyes and breathes slowly. “I’m also… I’m jealous. And I don’t want to show that to him. I know I made that choice ten years ago, and that was all on me, but I see this house, and I know how loved he is, and I wish I could have had that, too. He can’t feel bad about that. I don’t want him to.”

Cat nods slowly. “If it makes any difference, you can have that life now. I love you, and Adam will, too.”

She sucks in a deep breath. “I’m going inside.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Please.” Kara meets her gaze and extends a hand. “You make me stronger.”

“Stronger together,” Cat replies, and Kara nearly cries.

-x-

“Hi, Clark.” Kara hovers in the doorway, eyes trained on the boy scribbling madly in his journal. “Remember me?”

He meets her gaze and grins widely. “Yeah! You’re an alien, too.”

“May I come in?” At his nod, she steps inside and tries to keep her hands from jittering. “That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about.”

He sets his pencil down. “Did you get a chance to look at all the stuff in my ship?”

“Not yet, but I know where you’re from. You’re from Krypton, like me.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Your name is Kal-El, son of Jor-El and Lara.”

“How’d I get here?” He scoots closer to her, and she can’t help but scoop him into her lap.

“Just before you were born, some of the smartest people on our planet discovered that Krypton was going to die.” She closes her eyes as she tells him, reliving the last few months of stress and terror. She explains how his parents sent him away, and he widens his eyes comically large.

“Did they die?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was sent to protect you. But before either of us could reach Earth, some other aliens stopped our ships. They let you finish the journey, but I stayed with them.” She doesn’t want to burden him with the full truth, so she feeds him scraps--just enough to sate his appetite rather than whet it. “As soon as I could, I started looking for you. And you were right under my nose this whole time.”

He hugs her tightly. “Will you tell me about them?”

“Your parents?”

“And everyone else, too.”

“I didn’t know every other Kryptonian,” she says--and then realizes his words are just childish hyperbole. “But I’ll do my best. Your dad and my dad were brothers.”

“We’re cousins?”

“Yes.”

“That’s so cool!”

Kara spends the rest of the afternoon with him in her lap. Cat, who waited in the hallway through the more emotional moments, finally steps inside to give Kara a break from the painful memories by telling Clark all about Kara’s kindness on the satellite. He soaks in the details and complains loudly when they have to leave. They promise to visit soon and to have him out to visit them as well.

-x-

Kara places a sty piece on the edge of the board and proudly places a plastic pig in the freshly made box. “That’s three for me!”

Adam pouts cutely in her direction, so she sticks her tongue out. His pout turns into a mischievous smile as he places a piece that connects and completes two boxes. “Four.”

Cat leans back against the couch and watches her favorite people compete; she knows Kara will let him win by the end, but they’ve both agreed to make Adam work for his victories. He’s not going to get everything handed to him in life, after all, and they want him to value his effort not his result. Kara praises his better moves and whispers little tips to him when he struggles.

“Winner gets to choose dessert,” Adam declares as he holds his final piece aloft. He waits for Kara to groan and agree before placing it down and beating Kara yet again. “King of Pigs!”

Kara laughs and ruffles his hair. “What do you want?”

“Cake.”

“What kind?” Kara leans in close. “When I first got here, I saw this really cool cake called Birthday Batter. Have you ever had that before?”

He shakes his head. “What is it?”

“I don’t really know. I didn’t get to try it.”

“I want that.”

She makes eye contact with Cat, seeking permission, and then kisses the crown of Adam’s head. “I’ll be back in a jiffy!”

In a burst of excitement, she launches out the window and takes the scenic route to Midvale. She pauses from time to time to stare up at the stars and float among the clouds. This freedom she’s found is intoxicating, and she doesn’t think she could be much happier. The short visit with Tawny at the bakery makes her smile more than usual, and she all but rockets back home with the cake box tucked safely in her hands. The best part of the evening, aside from watching Adam shove forkfuls of cake into his mouth and smear frosting across his lips, is curling up in Cat’s arms and knowing that she’s home.

She’s home, and she doesn’t have to fight anymore.


	43. When the Dust Settles

Kara gasps, arching into Cat’s fingers and shivering. Her legs tremble, but she’s careful not to slam her heels into Cat’s back. She still remembers the broken rib from the first time she let her control slip--laughable now, but she’d tortured herself for weeks after. Sheets can be replaced, and the same can be said for headboards. But Cat is irreplaceable. She glances down her body, only to have her swollen belly protrude too far; she hopes desperately that she isn’t about to have twins. Cat’s hand slips along her skin, caressing her stomach and coaxing Kara to climax.

Even after twelve years, she’s still amazed by how safe she is at Cat’s side. Cat has been amazing during her pregnancy, despite the wild swinging of her moods--complete with partial loss of control over her powers--and depression. Kara thrives under the sun of this industry, so she’d never experienced such deep lows or hopelessness. With her hormones wreaking havoc, however, she wondered if she deserved the life she had.

Thankfully, Cat constantly fills her ears with praise. Even now, as Kara comes down from her high, Cat rubs her shoulder and murmurs, “You did a very good job. You know that, don’t you?”

Kara flushes. “I do.”

“And you know how proud I am that you’re carrying our child?”

“I do,” Kara repeats, her heart thumping quickly. “That was wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.” Cat cups her cheek and kisses her sweetly. There’s nothing pressing in the affection, and Kara knows neither of them is interested in revving up for another round. Instead, they lounge in the comfortable darkness of their bedroom, curled up together and content.

-x-

Alex eyes Clark warily as he leans down to greet her. This is the alien boy that her dad cared so much about before he got taken. The government had taken him years ago for his knowledge of alien physiology, and it was all because he knew Clark. Well, Kara, too, but when the men in suits came for Dad, Kara had fought against them while Clark looked at his feet. 

“Hey, Al.”

She bristles at the nickname, a leftover from before she transitioned. She knows it works as a girl name, too, but she likes Ally much more--or better yet, no nickname at all. Alex isn’t that hard to say, or even that long.

“Clark.”

“You excited?”

She twists her lips and huffs. “That’s a dumb question. Are you sure you’re gonna be a reporter?”

“Pretty sure.” He laughs, as if she’s just some little kid.

“You should just stop.”

Kara enters the room and sets a fond hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Alex, you want to come help me with the cake?”

“Don’t you have Adam for that?”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d like to help, too.” Kara raises her eyebrows, and Alex understands. She grins widely and follows quickly after. Kara gestures to the stool at the island and has her sit down. “You’re lucky he doesn’t really understand when people don’t like him.”

Alex giggles. “He should be more observant if he’s going to be a reporter.”

“So I heard.”

Adam hugs her tightly from behind, and she turns around to peck a kiss on his stubbly chin. “Addy.”

“Ally,” he replies, kissing her forehead. He’s her favorite relative, mostly because he didn’t just ignore her when they were younger. The six-year age difference never bothered him, and she loves him for it.

“Do you know what the name is?”

He shakes his head. “And you won’t be able to get it out of Mom, either. She’s being really tight-lipped about it.”

Alex turns her pout on Kara. “Really?”

Kara winks. “Really really. It’s a part of Kryptonian culture to have a naming day, and only the parents can know beforehand.”

Alex watches them for a few more minutes before heading down the hallway. She passes the adults in the living room and continues on to the baby’s nursery. Some of her old books are in there, and she’s pretty excited to read to him. She’s gonna make sure he’s learning science before he can walk.

She taps the spaceship mobile over his crib and watches it spin. When it comes to a halt, there’s a quiet cough in the doorway. She turns to find Cat and the baby. She prances over and kisses the baby’s head before throwing an arm around Cat’s middle for an awkward side-hug.

“Are you ready?”

“Mmhmm.”

“We’re about to start the ceremony, and I know Kara wants you to read the first passage.”

Alex hurries to the living room and stands primly in front of Kara. She’s memorized the Kryptonian phrases for the past three weeks, and she’s gonna do it perfect.

_“On this day, we gather as a family to proudly recognize the naming of the child of Kara Zor-El and Cat Grant. May Rao guide his steps and help him in times of need. May we all support him through all his days. May he find solace in the knowledge that he is loved.”_

Kara kisses her cheek and scoops the baby out of Clark’s arms. From a small jar, she takes a dab of lavender-scented oil--the closest thing to the real ointment she could find--and draws a neat line down the baby’s chest. At his belly button, she draws a circle, which she explains is to signify both the circle of life and the circle of love they’ve created in this room.

“Until this moment, only Cat and I have had the honor of knowing his name. We share that privilege with you. I present Carter Zor-El Grant.”

Alex stares at her doubtfully. “You’re naming your kid after the guy who works at the bakery?”

“He was kind to me,” Kara replies with a smile. “And I want him to have that same kindness. Plus, if he ever learns to make donuts half as well as his namesake, he’s going to be super successful.”

The room fills with laughter, and each person comes forward one at a time to press their thumb gently to his belly button and say a few words. Clark’s Kryptonian is rough and unsophisticated, but Kara is still overjoyed that she could give him that piece of his history. She watches all of her closest friends meet her child, and tears well in her eyes. She wishes her parents could have been present for the presentation of their grandchild, but she whispers his name that evening while she searches the sky for Rao, knowing that Rao will guide her words to their ears.

-x-

Adam and Cat enter the waiting room, and Adam gratefully squeezes her hand . He knows how much she hates this little errand once a year, but she comes with him anyway. They accept their guest badges and wait for their names to be called. She leads him down the echoey hallway to the small room where Scott sits and waits in his orange jumpsuit. He stands when they enter, and Cat politely lingers behind while Adam takes a seat opposite his father.

“Happy birthday,” Adam says, and Scott offers a smile.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“How have you been?”

Scott shrugs. “I’ve been well. I’ve liked your letters. Good to hear what you’re up to. First year of college, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Got a major in mind?”

Cat lets them chat and pretends to examine the vending machine. She would never touch any of these processed foods, but it gives her an excuse not to look at the man who had hurt her so terribly before. True to silent promise, she hasn’t said anything negative about Scott that would color Adam’s opinion, and to be honest, she’s glad that Adam is still able to have a bond with his father. When they get back in the car a bit later, she hands Adam a tissue and once again pretends to examine something else.

-x-

Kara wakes up to a gentle kiss on her temple. She yawns and stretches, curling her toes until they crack. “My turn to change the diaper?”

“No. Adam’s taking care of Carter for the morning.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrows. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. I just wanted a bit of time, just the two of us.”

“Did I forget our anniversary?” Kara bolts up and panics until Cat laughs and shakes her head.

“But you did forget the day we came met. Or as close as I can calculate.”

“You remember? After all this time?”

“Of course.” Cat leans forward to kiss her mouth. “It’s the day you started fighting for me.”

“And I’ll never stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming along with me on this journey. I hope this answers some of the missing questions, even as it still leaves some gaps here and there. I'd love to hear what you thought of the piece, either on here or on Tumblr @hypnobyl
> 
> TTFN :)


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